


The Whole World - Berlin 1937

by 8hephaestion8



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: 1937, AU, Anal, Berlin - Freeform, Journalism, Kissing, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Homosexuality, Ohio, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-06-28 10:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 41,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15705882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8hephaestion8/pseuds/8hephaestion8
Summary: A journey through the life of Armie Hammer, American journalist who is based in Berlin.  Armie is a person who has not yet come to terms with himself and so is happy to stand off in terms of relationships. He has happened upon a stranger, he doesn't know how this will change his life.Meanwhile 1937 Germany is in the midst of a gathering storm, the 1936 Olympics were a success but we know that the WWII is not far off, and the horrors of the Nazi regime are only just becoming apparent.  This is the environment, not the story.  Berlin is still an interesting place to live and work but this story is about Armie and his journey to this stage in his life, so we have to see how he arrived here.This story is how about how Armie manages to join up all the elements and aspects of himself and perhaps find a way of living comfortably and openly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is fiction, don't at me. They were not even born.
> 
> Errors are all mine, lol.

Armie was tired.  He was being told to stay in Berlin.   He wanted to go home, to get away from the constant pressure of having file his copy, of working in a regime.  A piece each week on the changing ambience of Berlin.  He hated his editor for making him post by the deadline.  It was shit.  He had nothing left to say.  He’d seen the way that people were being treated and he felt helpless. People were disappearing and nothing was being done.  Just last week someone who lived in the same apartment building was taken away because he supported the wrong party, he wasn’t sure that he would see him again people who disappeared were rarely seen again.  It was fucking depressing.

He turned the corner and there he was, drinking his solitary coffee, his notepad was not in his hand, it lay on the table alongside his cup and pastry. The young man sat there at a table outside The Corner Café, a haunt of the performers of the theatre whose stage door was on the other side of the corner. Armie was too canny to talk to him, not shy or reserved, to use the word shy suggested some other kind of interest, reserved, well that was another meaning, no, he didn’t have that interest in him, he thought about it - he was taking an intelligent interest.

He didn’t know why, but he wanted to find out about the stranger's life.  He looked interesting – Armie was just absorbed by the fact that he saw him virtually every day and he didn’t know him and he never had a companion.  He had started to make up short stories about him.  He would go home after his work travails and spend an hour writing 500 words on the mysterious young man – it was good discipline, it kept his work fresh and this lithe dark haired man in his mind.  He began to miss him if a day passed and he wasn’t there. Today there was a paper, an article sitting on the table, he was reading and drinking his coffee.  The stranger glanced up and saw him, but did not acknowledge Armie.

He had spent a lot of time away from home, his life comprised a series of intense interactions, his work was able to draw on his ability to draw out stories from people who had suffered. He could smell a story, the stranger had one. He wanted to talk to him to find out what his story was.  He knew there was one.

He had his own: middle class parents who cared for him, provided food and covered his body with clothes, he never wanted for anything when he was young, they understood him – they knew that he was uncertain about women and marriage, he became uncomfortable when they probed so they never pressed him.  His sister kept her own counsel, she didn’t question him either.

He shied away from relationships with women. He liked them but he didn’t understand how make them like him.  He would spend time with them, take them out, converse with them, but he didn’t understand them.  He would try to no avail – he liked them but he couldn’t get close.  Interest in men?  That was something else entirely. It was a fucking mess. He had desire – he would awake with a hard dick, ready to make love, his dreams vivid, thoughts tumbling into wakefulness.  He had tried, he had slept with women, he could honestly say he did not know what the fuss was about. He would not contemplate the alternative, sleeping with men – he wasn’t sure why, he was leaving that also. He had decided to do without either gender, he had decided he would just manage as best he could but now he had given up, it had been several years since he had any kind of actual physical sexual contact with a person.

Armie looked like an SS officer, he was six foot five inches, had blondish hair and deep blue eyes. His lack of interest in pursuing romantic or sexual relationships was at variance with the way he looked.  He did not draw as much attention here in Germany as he would back home.  Berlin was overrun with soldiers, SS soldiers in their black uniforms and other military paraded themselves around Berlin, sometimes intimidating people on the street without fear of being of being found in the wrong.  They looked powerful and attractive, Armie’s demeanour was nothing like a soldier.

Quite often people on the street would start talking to him in German.  To make his life easier he learnt the language, he would not be able to read an academic paper but he had enough German to hold his own. He could converse, write and read, a part of the reason he was asked to remain in Berlin.  He was aware of the dark side of Berlin, people were disappearing, membership of the party was helpful, foreigners were beginning to be regarded with suspicion and the constant display of military power shown by military parades, marches and nazi insignia was becoming frightening.  He didn’t think he would be able to stay much longer however much his boss pressed him, he was becoming uncomfortable.

He took up his normal spot. A table on the opposite of café from him. Him.  He wondered what he was called. The middle-aged waiter took his order.

“Eine Tasse Kaffee mit etwas Toast, Honig und Butter bitte”.  His normal mid-morning snack: coffee, toast with butter and honey.  There were raised voices, coming from the across the way.  An American voice: “Please give my notebook and pencils back” A soft pleasant voice.   Harsher toned German followed: “Gib deinen Tisch auf, wir sind deutsche Offiziere, streite nicht oder wir werden den Manager anrufen und dich verbieten lasse: Give up your table, we are German officers, don’t argue or we will call the manager and have you banned."

He was resolute and did not move.  It wasn’t clear if he understood what was being asked of him. Armie sat back, he didn’t want to get involved, he was American he didn’t want to reveal himself, it was none of his business.

The stranger was very attractive, he looked at him properly, closely, that was something he was surprised to acknowledge, he had stopped noticing these things. 

“Can I help? There seems to be some mis-understanding.” Armie took a tactful route. "Why don’t you use this table, I can join my friend over there.” 

He repeated this in German.  The unknown man had glanced up into Armie’s face on the word, friend.  He returned the look – what do you want me to say?

Armie had the better table, it was in a corner, the officers would be less overheard and if the offer was taken up, less embarrassment all round.  The soldiers heard the American through the German, thought better of arguing further, threw the notebook back on the table and came across to Armie, who gathered up his things and joined the other table. 

He addressed the stranger: “Good Morning, I’m Armie Hammer.  I hope you don’t mind my getting involved, and trying to help you out of this difficulty. Is it OK if I join you?”  Armie felt so formal, and old.  The stranger was at least ten years younger than him.  He felt some way about this.

“I was just leaving anyway, thanks for your assistance.”  He got up and left. 

Armie watched as he walked off, now he had heard his voice his interest in him had fastened a hold. He didn’t mind the apparent rudeness, it intrigued him – he had learnt a long time ago that to get a good story, patience and forbearance are needed.  He took a good long look as he walked off, taking in the range of his body, from head to foot. 

Yes, he was attractive…what could he do with that?


	2. 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of Armie's back history. This series is mostly from Armie's POV. I wanted to investigate how he managed to arrive in Berlin and some more of his personal history. This Armie is not the outward going person that we see in his social media, there is a darker more complex side to Armie that we don't often see, he has internal struggles that we can't work through, we only see the outcomes and we don't understand them. For this Armie we can at least have a deeper better look at what is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't @ me. They were not even born then.

**22**

Armie had joined his local paper the Lebanon Star as a senior in high school, he took on a weekend shift covering community sports.  It wasn’t the sports so much as covering the families. The moms and dads who stood on the bye lines shouting support for their sons as they played football or athletics, the fundraisers and communal picnics or awards.  All of local life was there.  His family were well known in South Lebanon, Ohio where he grew up in.  He took his experience into college and managed to get a similar post at the Athens Messenger, it helped with his degree majoring in English Literature and Writing.  He was very grateful for the financial support his parents had sacrificed for him.  In effect they lost one salary to pay for his schooling – both were school teachers, so were also able to get him a scholarship to Ohio University to help with fees, it was still a significant sacrifice for them. The small amount he earned mostly covered his living expenses, if he was lucky he could also be fed at events.  He took courses in anthropology and sociology to broaden his knowledge on what motivated people, causes and effects interested him.  It turned out that those were exactly the right courses for his chosen career.  He thought about changing to a journalism course in his final year but stuck it out and led a relatively normal college life.  He came out with a good degree, in the top five of his class for English.  The off campus activity meant he developed a sense of working in the real journalistic world, he had brought good references and in his new role continued to impress and make good contacts, it was all working out for him.

He was interested in local communities and he knew he wanted to write about this when he left college.  Because of his extracurricular activity, he became somewhat aloof – in the sense that he set himself apart, he wasn’t rude just able to stand away from college student stupidities, he had wider experience than his college friends – He wasn’t interested in getting illicit liquor or getting as far as he could with women.  His world was larger. He attended social events, he was good company people liked having him around,  He still had friends that he made in college, he got invited back to his friends’ family events when he was home in the US, but he had a habit of standing apart from the crowd, watching not overly involving himself.  Women would try with him, he even dated a girl for a year in college but he appeared not to have any real sexual interest in her, at first she was pleased that he didn’t press her but by the end of the year, she wanted him to at least try to touch her intimately, he would make out, kiss her and squeeze her breasts but that was it, she wanted more – Armie was attractive, his build put a kind of fear in her she wanted to have to fight him off and then succumb.  He didn’t notice or seem to know what would work for a lot of women.  A few other girls followed.  His friends tried to give him advice, when he followed it, the girls looked confused and shortly afterwards dropped him. When he reported back to friends male and female, they would shake their heads and laugh because he succeeded in applying the right advice either at the wrong time or in the wrong tone. And he couldn’t work out what he was doing wrong.  Dating didn’t work for him.  He still went to dinners, parties, barbeques and other social events even the midsummer and graduation balls (he had no problems getting a date, the girls always thought they could ultimately change him), he spoke well, was good company but often alone, he began to get used to it.

When he finished college, the Cincinnati Post offered him a full-time post covering civic news – in effect community on a wider scale. He wondered about taking it up, it meant moving more or less permanently from home.  He knew that once he moved to Cincinnati it was unlikely that he would return home for any serious period of time.  He thought about it for a long time, weighed up the consequences:  if he went home to Warren County, he would probably find some kind of job working on a paper but he would still end up having to move away from South Lebanon; he had no ties in the area apart from his parents; the Cincinnati Post position was a good opportunity, it was well respected, several journalists had gone onto larger more politically focussed papers or had gone into the new broadcast media – radio, other opportunities at the paper would be offered.  He still pondered, at least he knew everybody at the Star and it’s sister paper, and it was safe.  When he considered this last reason, he realised that he had to take up the post.  If he was serious about a journalism career at some point he would have to move away from home, the town was too small to generate real news, if he wanted to progress he needed to take up the post.

 

He moved to Cincinnati, he found he had a hard boiled section Editor. Harry wasn’t going anywhere, he was good at his job and he ran a tight ship, you either fit in or got out of the way.  It was good for Armie – it taught him the final element of discipline required to progress in his career – the ability to shut the fuck up. Harry offered direction and advice, he had good contacts, was politically astute both internally and externally, his range of influence was wide.  He would shout and humiliate you if you did not produce your copy in good form or on time.  He was the same with everyone.  Armie was never late with his copy, but sometimes he failed to see how a comment might impact politically, several times in the early days he was asked to re-write a paragraph so that a local company would not take offence and pull their adverts.  A spectacular mistake was by implication criticising Shillito’s department store for buying products in Europe and discriminating against immigrants – he saw it as contradictory behaviour.  His writing was elegant and sophisticated, in fact it was exemplary prose.  His copy hardly ever needed to be subbed for grammar, sense or house style. It was a small paragraph with a lot of implications.  It was already clear even then that the troubles of the First World War were not resolved, Germany was going through a period of economic distress after the end of the world and Cincinnati had welcomed what were effectively refugees from that part of Europe. Armie’s stories showed how difficult the immigrants had found living in Germany and then having to adapt to a new life in Cincinnati; he portrayed Shillito as being less likely to take the immigrants on as staff, particularly if they were Jewish.  His Editor was not happy.

“Armie, get over here.”  Armie knew he was vaguely in trouble.

“Do you know how much Shillito spends with us? No?  I thought not.  When you want to criticise a well-known establishment you have to be able to justify why you are doing it.  It is not good enough to say it is news.  What do you hope to achieve? What did you learn at the Star?”

Armie was nonplussed.  Hope to achieve?  What was that?  He wrote articles, newspaper articles, of course his job was to investigate, he couldn’t write stories and then edit out the core content.

“I am hoping to show the plight of recent immigrants.  These people have found it very difficult to get accommodation and regular work.  They were promised that jobs would be easy to come by instead they go to companies like Shillito and are basically treated like shit, they don’t even get an interview”

Harry got close to him, he didn’t swear at the women in the office, he spoke down to them, calling them Darling or Sweetie but his tongue was sharp and dirty with the men.

“We are not a fucking avenging angel.  If we piss off the advertisers we don’t have a job – who do you think pays your fucking salary?  Go and get your fucking brain in gear and re-write that paragraph – before you do, go and speak to the Publisher and find out who our main supporters and advertisers are.  That copy has to be back and finished in two hours.” 

Armie opened his his mouth to protest, looked into Harry’s face, thought better and went to find the Publisher.  This was the first time he had three ‘fucking’s, four and he really would be in trouble. He had been warned by his colleague Frank, who had been around for several years and who was appointed his mentor, that the number and type of swear words were a good indicator of Harry’s mood.  The most Frank had ever heard was six ‘fucking’s and three other words all worse.  That man had been sacked.

Frank caught him before he went upstairs to speak to the Publisher.  The Publisher was Maureen Wellman-Scripps, her family owned the paper.  She was the fifth Publisher, most started in the role in their thirties and stayed until they were sixty – the paper was over a hundred and fifty years old, politically neutral, socially responsible.  Maureen was thirty-five, she was also Harry’s mistress, she was unmarried and nobody asked her why – she was mouthy and strong minded, also possessed of a brilliant brain which could see what was good for the paper strategically and had the ability to deal with the most pedantic of accountants on their own terms.  Harry liked his women strong, his wife was the same.

Most people at the paper knew about Harry’s affair except Armie, which is why Frank caught him, so he could tell him to remain tactful.  The paper was in good hands, the Editor was a taciturn polite and correct man called Sidney E. Blakemore – if summoned by him, people double-checked their facts and put on their thinking caps if there was a flaw in an argument Sidney would politely and calmly rip it apart. He ran the newsroom efficiently, all of his section heads were different, they made a good team; if Maureen contradicted him, he went straight to her father who was his good friend, in his eyes Maureen was no better than an employee, like himself.  Her father was Chairman of the parent company, there were other papers in the group.  Maureen was important but not indispensible.

Maureen just reminded him to go to the Advertising Manager and find out who spent the most money and most importantly keep these details in a notebook until he learnt who to avoid commenting on or gained a sense of what might cause offense, next thing to double-check with her if still uncertain.  She gave him a general low-down of their significant supporters, companies which helped them support cultural events or who might expect help recruiting staff through advertorials promoting their service to the community or indeed new products.  This was particularly true of Procter and Gamble who were based in downtown Cincinnati, and who might also provide samples of products to give away in what were effectively newspaper raffles. It was a quid pro quo – something to build readership which also helped promote the companies new products.  Armie, kind of knew what was expected – he just needed to be reminded, the lesson he took out of this was that the larger companies had to be left alone, they had the money to take the Post to court; smaller or small companies were fair game – they stood to lose not only their reputation but a fair amount of money defending themselves even if they were being unfairly presented.  Armie by and large played fair, he wanted to be able to go back when he needed their help.  He did everything in his power to stay on good terms.

Every Friday, the news team gathered at the Irish pub two blocks down – the team comprised twenty reporters, four section heads and Mr Blakemore who never came to the pub.  Harry would come drink one beer and two lemonades and he and Maureen would leave.  Of course not everyone could come, but you could be assured that there would be at least eight people standing at the bar any Friday night.  Armie was over 21 and he liked to drink.  He never got drunk, he liked the buzz, he was less cautious more open; one night after the paper had received accolades for a story published he went past the buzzed stage and got himself picked up by a woman in the bar.  He went back to her apartment and spent the night, when he woke up he realised she was near thirty, and she had done most of the work to get him to have sex that first night.  He wasn’t a virgin but he had very limited experience she on the other hand was very experienced and he had to admit he had enjoyed the sexual experience with her the most – they crept around together for a while but when they went into bars, they would be looked at – everyone seemed to know they were fucking and would smirk when he went to order drinks or pay for their meal, he wasn’t interested in a long term relationship with her and she knew that, they were having a pleasant time together.  He saw her for six months, she met someone her own age and dropped him – he didn’t mind.  He carried on with the Friday night drinking, joined a group who went regularly to concerts and the theatre, made some friends there, and from connections at the paper got together a good social life. He was enjoying being in Cincinnati.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are back in Berlin. Armie meets the stranger again and is introduced to him, but he is suspicious about his motives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction don't @ me. They were not even born.

Life continued uneventfully.   He went into the office, met his interviewees, worked on his current thought piece but he stopped going to the café.  The stranger had stopped coming, so he saw little point, his motivation for visiting that particular café was gone.  He now went to one just across the road from the newspaper office.  He thought of himself as lazy, going to Café Stammhaus every day at the same time, ordering the same food he was restricting his life into a rigid routine, something he had vowed not to do.   He felt like his writing was going hell, he was fed-up.  He decided to go to see a film that afternoon, he would join his colleague Jeremy for a drink and something to eat during the evening, try to switch off.  He would go and see The Kreutzer Sonata, there was an English subtitled version showing at his local, he would ask Jeremy to come over to his apartment for seven and they could walk down to the beer house which was about a ten minute walk away.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the stranger, he was striking – he had wavy chocolate coloured hair, tall around six foot and had a slim physique, he could be a film actor he certainly was aware of his body, so more than likely he was a performer. Armie’s head twisted to keep him in view, yes he was going into the newspaper office, he wasn’t sure whether or not to follow him into the building to see who he where he was going.  He resigned himself, if the stranger had wanted to meet him a second time he would have come back to the café – a piece of common sense went through his mind suddenly, the stranger was avoiding the café because he feared the return of the soldiers he wasn’t avoiding Armie.  This was his opportunity to talk to him, if he was going more than two floors, he would take the lift or at least he would if he was ‘normal’.

He had disappeared by the time Armie had safely crossed the road and gone into the building entrance. He looked to see where the lift was, it had gone up to the 10th floor and was waiting there.  He could hear steps up the stairs which ran alongside the lift.  He wasn’t as fit as he used to be but he was in pretty good shape, his long legs took the steps two at time, he managed to get a view of him before he got to the third floor exit where he was turning through the door, but he held back suddenly shy and shy was the right word this time.  Now Armie was intrigued, this was his floor, who was he visiting?  He caught himself – intrigued, shy what was this?  He soon found out who the stranger was visiting, it was his editor, what did he want?

“Oh Armie, come and meet Timothée, Timothée Chalamet” He pronounced his name French style, how pretentious. He extended his hand, the stranger was reticent so he withdrew his hand, this fucker was rude.

His editor continued.

“I was going to talk to you about something, an opportunity, you have pre-empted me”

He didn’t like this, it mean that he was going to be responsible for something – he learnt a long time ago not to dispute with Editors – when they spoke like this they had already settled on a decision. If there was any disagreement, they could find a way of causing the greatest humiliation, and do it politely, sometimes so politely that you didn’t know you had been injured until you saw the blood.  He waited to be told.

“You know that we have just bought the rights to broadcast WKRC Cincinnati OH radio news; well we need a Europe wide broadcast and we were wondering if you would write the news items – you don’t have to deliver them, that is why we have asked Timothy to help out.  He has some public speaking experience and performance experience.  He handles vocal performance for the theatre and works privately with actors and singers who need vocal help and support.  You may have seen him around, I understand you were at that café when he ran into some trouble with some soldiers.”

So he had a big mouth as well.

Timothy kept his counsel, his face gave nothing away although he smiled pleasantly at Armie.  This was the first time he had ever smiled at him – Armie glared back at him, this was the first proper introduction, why hadn’t he acknowledged him before?  Timothy spoke:

“Sorry if I have been a little offhand, I find it difficult to meet people I was just explaining that to Ben.  I am often told that I am rude, and I don’t mean to be.  I did want to thank you for your help, I recognise I more or less ran off that day, it was rude.”

He did have a perfect radio voice, it was interesting, he knew how to reach into his body to produce a pleasant sound which could hold your attention.

Armie did not acknowledge him.

He was making himself look good with Ben, his editor.  Armie wasn’t pleased.  Firstly, he didn’t see why he should write the broadcast, there were other younger reporters who would jump at the chance and would be better at this; secondly, Timothy was a smarmy little shit.  He didn’t have time for people who were able to put themselves in the light and leave you standing in the dark whilst shouting reticence.  He would have to watch him.  He didn’t like him.

Ben was monitoring Armie and the interaction between the two men.  This was the first time he had ever seen Armie take an active dislike to someone, he was very even tempered, patient and normally empathetic even with the most difficult of clients.  Ben knew Armie well, he was becoming jaded and he wanted to keep him – he was excellent, that was why he offered him this opportunity; he could use radio to refresh his career, he might not want to stay in Berlin and if he worked in radio whether he chose to go back to America or indeed elsewhere in Europe he would have a complete set of skills that he could use to prolong his career.  This was strange.  There was some kind of electricity between the two of them, but neither seemed to be aware of it, it filled the room.  Then it wasn’t so strange, he chuckled to himself, he would leave them to sort it out for themselves.  They had to work together, he wasn’t going to let them off the hook.


	4. 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie is still not really facing up to some facts about himself. This chapter gives us some more back story, he is promoted and at the same time having to return home. His career is progressing well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't at me.

Armie settled into his job at the Post. The next few years were spent learning his trade, he was promoted and moved off civic news generally to responsibility for a specific area – he was responsible for any news that came from the rural lower half of Ohio, he had some stringers he used but mainly the stories were his, there was a great deal of travel.  Urban Cincinnati belonged to another reporter, he tried not to overlap. 

So he ended up back up home.  It was strange to end up back in his single bed.  His parents were glad to have him, they had both retired, and they had nothing better to do than look after their boy.  He was still only twenty seven, but they insisted he came home, his every need was taken care of, his father drove him to appointments, laundry was done, cooked meals were made, even entertainment was provided – they brought friends with daughters into the home for Sunday brunch hoping to tempt him into something, they took him to local church events and held dinner parties and evening soirées to no avail. When he was home he had no need to lift a finger in any area.  His mother ran behind her little chick, and his father acquiesced for a quiet life.  His sister came with her family for Sunday lunch, she was three years older than him, sensible and because she was first born, left to her devices because she was older and therefore judged more than capable.  Joan resigned herself, Armie was their favourite. 

Her husband Del noticed the minor injustices and when they got home he would complain, after a while she asked him not to comment, it was mildly upsetting and because she had grown up with it, the way her parents behaved was more often a source of amusement rather than a source of pain.  By the time Armie was in college she was married to Del so had not suffered by their sacrifice to ensure that Armie was studying a subject that had potential for a great career.  Del was the owner and manager of several hardware shops in the region, they had met when she had gone into the Lebanon store for some screw-in hooks to be used in the kitchen. He was five years older than her.  They dated for a year and were married eighteen months later, she was twenty three when they married, she loved Dell but realised that part of his attraction was that he was nothing like the rest of her family – they had two children, two girls, she loved her created family and was very satisfied with life.

Armie looked up some old high school friends.  They were mostly married or courting a long-term lover, he was invited round to dinners, they tried to match him with their single girlfriends.  He was nonchalant and charming, the girls waited for a card or call in vain. He was seemingly happy, after a while everyone gave up trying to match make.  He preferred that.

Daniel Baker was also single, he had been a friend in high school not especially close he was in the class above Armie’s English class, he was now a teacher in Waynesville High School, he called on Armie one evening.  There was a knock on the door, Armie’s parents were used to people dropping in for a quick drink and catch-up, they called Armie to the door.  There wasn’t a lot of local entertainment, the nearest cinema was in Lebanon, and a community theatre group put on the occasional show at Christmas and sundry other times in the year.  Visitors were normally welcomed and necessary.  Armie was mildly surprised to find Daniel on the doorstep.  He recalled him after a few moments and invited him in for a quick catch up.

After the first fifteen minutes they were getting on tolerably well; they had done a brief personal catch up, and then got on to talking about High School.  Armie explained where he had got to and how, and Daniel told him that he had always wanted to be a teacher after being inspired by Mrs Wilson, who had also taught Armie English Literature, they reminisced about her, she wasn’t married but referred to herself as Mrs Wilson because as she told each class as they passed through her hands, they would treat her with more respect.  She was right.

“You do know she is a lesbian?” 

Armie fell silent.  Just as well his parents had gone up.

“Is that relevant?”

“It is interesting, she had a partner Miss Dewberry.  They had met in teacher’s college and spent the rest of their lives together.  I visited them on many an occasion, they were very much in love with each other.  If you don’t want to discuss I won’t”

Armie was now uncomfortable, he didn’t really know why.  If Daniel had been discussing an ordinary couple, he would feel that this was a heartwarming story.  The idea of two women living together and loving each other was, well not normal, at the very least it was unusual.  Armie decided that he would put aside his discomfort and try not to be judgemental.

“How many people knew about them?  How did they manage with their neighbours? Their colleagues?”

“They were quite well known, I think those who wanted to know about them acknowledged their relationship, some people chose to believe they were just good friends who kept separate quarters and shared a house to save money.  I would say it was fairly obvious, and their colleagues and neighbours were under no illusions – they were neighbourly, friendly and helped out where they could.  They are nice people and they are still together, getting on a bit now – I don’t see very much of them. They have to have help in the house and don’t really have a lot of visitors now.

Not all people in homosexual relationships are terrible, you know.  We are human beings like anyone else, some are bad some are good.  I take as I find.”

Armie initially missed the reference.  Then re-wound when he caught Daniel looking at him, now he understood why Daniel had come round.

There was a kind of tension in the room.

Daniel got up to go. 

“Well time is getting on, I know you have a busy day ahead of you.  It was nice to catch up…would you like to see a movie sometime?”

Armie took a deep breath. Then decided.

“A movie would be good – I could do with some good company…I am not homosexual you know”

“I won’t be making a move on you, rest assured.  I could also do with the good company of someone my age.  Can you get into Lebanon on Saturday night? We could have a drink at a bar then see the late show at 9.00pm.  You drive or ride a bike don’t you?  Meet outside the movie house at 7.30 pm on Saturday?”

It was Tuesday night. Armie would have to borrow his father’s car, he would ask tomorrow.

“Yes, see you on Saturday at 7.30pm”

 

When he asked to borrow the car, he thought it only polite to say why.  His father John, looked anxious, Armie thought it might be because he would be returning late at night.  It wasn’t that.

“You are going with Daniel Baker?”

“Yes, is that a problem?”

“No, no…I don’t want to tell you what to do…you know he’s…”

John couldn’t say the word.  He was a modest man who found it difficult to express himself, he relied on Armie’s mother to speak on his behalf.  This time he held his ground, Armie saw an inner strength that he had not been aware of before.  He spoke and Armie was very grateful for what he said.

“Yes, I know and I am not homosexual”. 

“You know your mother and I would love you regardless”

“I love you both too.”

They left it at that.

 

He met Daniel at 7.15pm, they were both early – that boded well for their friendship.  Daniel took him to a little bar down beyond the cinema, off the main streets.  There were a few people in the bar, mainly people who had stopped for a drink after work, it was quiet, nobody noticed them.  Daniel found a table towards the back but not hidden away, anyone could see them.  He got Armie seated, then went to buy drinks.

“What would you like to drink, I’ll get these – I asked you.”

“I’ll have a beer with a bourbon chaser”

Daniel raised his eyes.

“Really? Aren’t you concerned about falling asleep, we still have nearly two hours before the film and you have to drive home.”

Armie laughed.

“Don’t worry I know my limits, and we are going to eat something. I’ll be alright”

“OK, I’ll bring a menu, they don’t do proper meals.  We might be able to get a sandwich or some fries, that kind of stuff”

“That’ll be fine, just need something to take the edge off the drink.”

They settled and got off to a comfortable chat about this and that, an hour had passed and Daniel looked at him.

“Have you ever been with a man?”

“No I haven’t, I’ve already said I am not homosexual”

Daniel ignored him.

“So, what is your relationship history?

Wow, Armie was a little shocked at his directness.  He wondered why he wanted to know.

“Why are you interested to know?”

“Don’t answer a question with another question.”

Checkmate.

“I can’t say that I am particularly successful.  I have had relationships, but nothing that led anywhere to thinking that I wanted to go beyond dating.  Even the girl that I spent a year with was just someone that I liked but didn’t really feel that strongly about.  Don’t get me wrong, I liked her but not enough to be concerned about keeping her.”

“When was that?  It sounds like you were just friends really”

This was the first time anyone had addressed this subject with Armie directly in this way.  It made him think.

“At college.  We were more than friends.  I also had a lover, an older woman, for around six months, that really was just fucking.  Apart from those two, the others were just dates nothing too long.”

“Didn’t you ever just want to just fuck someone? Never get driven by lust? Nobody got your blood pumping?”

“The girls were too nice to get into that and I never pressed any of them, even the girl, or I should say woman that I was sleeping with, she approached me first and initiated the whole thing.”

Daniel looked at him, he wasn’t sure he believed him – eventually someone would have capitulated.  Armie was a good looking boy, if he had dated and held out eventually someone would have climbed all over him to get a piece and everyone has had a crush of some description at some point in time.

“Armie the whole point of dating is to find someone you like, want to spend time with, want to fuck and can see yourself having a future with, you can have fun but ultimately you have to be strategic.”

“OK Mr Wiseguy, what is your experience?  How come you are out here with me, by your token you should be at home putting your feet up with your beau.”

“I nearly had that Armie, but chickened out.  I wasn’t ready and the idea of setting up home in open view was too difficult for me.  There are too many risks. I am a teacher, I didn’t want to jeopardise my career or damage my reputation.  Nor did I want to keep hiding around the place, I know others do it, some live together quite openly, but I am too well known down here, it felt like I was putting myself out in the open and I like to be private.

So I with Pierce for two years, and before him I had a variety of lovers, some for a day others for longer than six months, a couple for a year or so.  Most of them lived outside of Lebanon. That is how it is in the homosexual community, you take what you can get for however long you want.  You could learn from that Armie – you are quite closed off you know, but very personable once you let someone in.”

The ice was well and truly broken.  They only had about fifteen minutes before the film programme started, they split the bill and managed to get seated just as the news reel was starting.

When the film finished it was nearly eleven.  Armie couldn’t remember if Daniel had a car, so he asked him if he needed a ride home.

“No thanks, I have my own car.  I’m about fifteen minutes from here.  How long will it take you to get home?”

“About half an hour”  Armie paused.

“Would you like to come to the cinema again, next Saturday? There’s a new Jean Harlow film out, should be here for next week.”

“I think I am free – if I’m not, I’ll drop you a line.  I’ve enjoyed myself tonight, look forward to seeing you again.”  He shook Armie’s hand and they both set off home.

Over the course of the next few months they met regularly, Armie spent time with people his age and even dated. He was developing a good circle of friends.

 

“So what did that woman teach you?”

“Which woman?”

“You know perfectly well who I mean.  Did she try to teach you how to make love or did she just expect you to fuck her?”

Armie flushed fully red.  This was one aspect about Daniel that he found difficult to deal with.  Daniel had no compunction about talking about sex.  In company he was polite and respectful but when it was just the two of them, he quite often had a filthy mouth.

“Well did she ever try to suck you off?  Hand jobs?”

Jesus.

“No, we just had sex”

Daniel laughed. 

“Just had sex.  What is sex Armie?”

“You know, just fucking, coitus. Jesus, why do you need to know?”

“I am interested in what heterosexual couples do, it always sounds so boring”

What! 

Daniel continued.

“I personally don’t just like fucking, there are lots of things you can do that are more pleasurable than that.”

Armie fell silent, he didn’t know what to say.  And he didn’t want to show ignorance.

“Did she ever come?”

Fucking Hell.

“Come? I don’t know…for fuck’s sake can we stop now please.”

“What do you mean you don’t know.  Did she ever orgasm?”

Now Armie felt ashamed, he didn’t even think to ask let alone even consider if it was possible for a woman to orgasm.  All he knew was that when he came it was obvious, women weren’t built like that, you couldn’t be sure, let alone know.  Fuck, he began to realise, what did he know about sex? Going by what Daniel was saying and about to say, nothing.

“Armie, part of the pleasure of making love or even fucking is that both of you get the same outcome – an orgasm.  I won’t make you any more embarrassed; but let me assure you if you at least try to give a woman an orgasm she will do a lot of things for you in and out of bed that you would not even imagine.

So you never had head?”

Head.  He had heard that expression before – couldn’t remember what that was. It showed on his face.

“Has anyone ever sucked your dick?”

Armie was beetroot from head to toe.

He spoke very softly: “No” 

To his embarrassment, his cock started showing interest in the idea.

Daniel reached out and lightly touched his hand.  They were in public, he was discreet and did not hold his hand for long.

“I won’t embarrass you anymore.  Let’s go see the film.”

 

When they got to the cinema, Daniel took him into a back row in a corner.  He sat on the outside. Armie on the inside, closest to the wall.  Armie was on tenterhooks.  He both wanted and didn’t want to know about someone giving him head.  They were seeing a Bette Davis film – he had a thing for dark haired girls.  Daniel was also dark haired.  As the friendship had grown, he became more relaxed around him, this might be a thing, but they were just friends weren’t they? He found himself looking out for him, seeking him in crowds, wanting him to appear when he visited Lebanon.

They took their seats, after the news reel finished, they settled down, the cinema was now very dark.  Armie was a little anxious, nicely anxious, anticipating, he thought Daniel might try something.  He was almost disappointed when he didn’t.  They arranged to meet a few days later for the mid-week football game, that was very public, he would be safe.

 

Armie didn’t need the car to go to the football match, he lived about twenty minutes quick walk from the stadium.  Daniel drove.  The game was so so, they would have had a better time if they had spent the time elsewhere.  Daniel drove Armie home, and was invited in for night cap. John and Betsy were up in their beds, they would have been asleep.  They made coffee and Armie added a measure of brandy to each cup, it was warming.  The college football season had just started, and the nights were beginning to draw in, the fire in the living room was drawing down.

Armie put on the radio, it was broadcasting some love songs played by an orchestra – it sounded like a concert. They were having some desultory conversation, Daniel put his cup down and put his hand on Armies leg.  Armie pretended he hadn’t.  Daniel started stroking his leg.  Armie put his cup down.  Armie’s cock was stirring and wanting to be touched.   Armie didn’t know what to do, so he sat there and let Daniel do what he wanted.  Daniel opened his fly, and put his hand inside his trousers, starting palming and rubbing Armie’s dick and balls.  Neither said a word.  Armie’s breath began to hitch.  Daniel was very calm, he was going to show Armie the pleasures of sex, he wasn’t particularly interested in a long term relationship, if he was right he would be able to continue seeing Armie without taking things into a relationship, they liked each other but Daniel knew that Armie was not really for him – he liked him enough to try out some sexual things.

That is what he told himself.  That was all. Armie would absolutely going to take this for what it was, sex.  Wouldn’t he?

Daniel took Armies dick out, feeling it, gauging his size, rubbing the veins, squeezing a finger under on the ridge, against the hood, he started to stroke softly, it rose up,  a little liquid rolled down the head.  Armie had never really had a hand job either.  He had masturbated, but this was not the same.  Daniel looked into Armie’s face, do I have permission to continue?  Armie opened his hips, pressed his bottom into the sofa and pushed his dick further into Daniel’s hand, yes. Daniel pushed open Armie’s legs, extending his stroking, together they removed Armie’s trousers and pants.

He took a firmer grip, Armie started to shiver and hum, this was really pleasurable – Daniel considered giving Armie a really strong orgasm by roughly handling him and pulling his balls, so that he came quickly but decided against.  He brought him to orgasm by gently stroking one out of him, it was a gradual release, enough to make him relaxed, burning slightly, enough to want more.

Daniel started kissing Armie just using his mouth, testing his lips, accepting Armie’s tongue but not pressing his own into service.  He did nothing that might make Armie alarmed, he was gentle and checked in with him, making sure he felt comfortable with what was going on.  He asked if he could kiss him deeply, Armie nodded and he pushed his tongue into his mouth.  His fingers brushed Armie’s face, feeling his skin, his ears, the soft lobe, hairline, he put a hand on Armie’s neck pressing down, like he was testing him to see if he liked it, he was caressing his upper body using his hands to explore Armie’s chest and back, he pressed his thumb into the space under his arms into his armpit, spread his hands around his back, held him and sucked a bruise on his neck.  He stretched Armies arms up, and licked his armpit and around his chest, took his nipple into his mouth and nipped the nub, then nipped it again til it burned; he kept a hand on Armie’s dick, stroking and licking at the same time.  Armie groaned, he had never been made love to, it was exhilarating he felt so free, his body relaxed, he started to get hard again. Armie felt enveloped, Daniel had already taken off his pants, he straddled Armie’s lap so they sat cock to cock, now they were both naked: he kept his hands on Armie’s body, stroking and sucking his nipples, kissing him hard, his tongue thrusting like a cock, keeping his own cock full but not hard. This was about Armie.

Armie remained inactive, he accepted Daniel onto and into his body, as far as he was concerned Daniel could do what he wanted.

Daniel got off Armie’s lap and kneeled in front of him.  He told him he was going to give him head, he explained that he would take Armie into his mouth and suck him until he came, orgasmed.  He told him that if for any reason he felt uncomfortable, he had to raise his hand and he would stop.  Armie was wide-eyed with desire, he did not think that he would want Daniel to stop.

Daniel’s soft lips were a revelation to Armie, the sensation went all around his groin. His tongue was licking softly and then roughly; across the dome of his cock and round the ridge where head joined shaft.  His mouth was joined by a hand on the shaft. as the head disappeared into Daniel’s mouth, a hand was softly turning and stroking upwards.  Armie was in heaven, his body was on fire.  He didn’t know what to do with himself. Daniel had to tell him to be quiet.  His balls were alternately going hard and then soft, pre-come was flowing freely, Daniel just sucked it into his mouth.  When his dick was in Daniel’s mouth everything down there was rigid, his dick was hard, harder than he ever felt before, when it was just his hand, his balls softened, the skin on his dick released.  Then just when he didn’t think he could feel anything more, Daniel put a single finger in his ass.  That switched him on like a fucking bright light, the finger was inside him stroking the base of his cock, a mouth and tongue were sucking the head of his dick, Daniel’s mouth opened wider and seemed to swallow more of Armie’s dick than he thought was ever possible he wanted to watch but was so taken up in the sensation that he had to lean back on the cushions of the sofa to savour everything fully.  The nerve endings in his ass were going off, an orgasm was building slowly but this was unlike any orgasm he had ever experienced.  He opened up his ass, if Daniel had put his dick in there his life would be complete he would feel so fucking full – he could just imagine the sensation of a fat dick in there, as he did his ass began to grip the finger as if it were the dick, it began to pulse, his internal muscles and organs fell away to rippling waves and he let himself be overcome. The orgasm rolled from deep it rolled up urging all kinds of sensations, his dick stood on end, his balls stood off, he could feel the semen rushing towards release.

Daniel swallowed all of his cum…all of it…he sucked it all out…his tongue licked his dick clean…he was still hard…fuck.

He drew Daniel up and kissed him, he could taste himself raw and salty, he continued to kiss him until he could only taste Daniel, he wrapped his legs around him. He just wanted to feel connected, they stayed like that for a while, his heart felt rested.

“You’ll have to let me go, baby.  I have to go home”

“Wait, you haven’t come….I could…”

“Next time…”


	5. Armie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a discourse by Armie on Armie. He is not a reliable narrator because he thinks he has valid reasons for behaving the way he does. It is a form of protection that he is not owning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't at me. They were not even born at this time.

I like both men and women but I hold back.  I want to join in socially.  People like me, I am a little shy but that is not the reason.

There are some people that I want. I just don't know what to say to them to make them interested and to keep their interest.  I can see when I start talking that they want to be interested but what I offer doesn't seem to kindle a sexual interest.  Perhaps I am looking in the wrong places.  There is a kind of parity checking when seeking a mate.  Good looking genial people gather together.  Nerds gather together. I think I have set myself in the wrong group.  I am good looking, I get girls coming up to me to offer me help in shops, if I am at a party girls will look over at me and catch my eye to see if I like them. What am I supposed to do in these instances? I look back at them, smile and then what? I look back now and think fool, go over to the drinks, stand around there make small talk, go into the kitchen help serve food, touch a girl on her arm, brush your fingers on hers when you pass her a plate or glass, stare at her breasts, let her know you are interested.

I am not homosexual.

When I said I liked men and women, I notice when a handsome man comes into the room. I look him up and down. I monitor my reaction. Assess him. I look at his cock.  Mine is a good size, I compare myself. I look at his ass, would I?  Am I looking for a male partner? I don't know.  That is not a question I can or want to answer.  How far does honesty go?  How much have I revealed to myself?  I don’t know, I never answer these questions myself.  I am not seeing everything. Don’t judge me.  You see more than I do.

I am not homosexual.

I think I should get married, it is expected.  My parents ask me if I want children. When I was with Daniel, they turned a blind eye, invited him round for dinner. Asked him to come on our Sunday excursions.  He even came with us on a camping holiday in Hoosier Forest Park.  Daniel and I shared a tent, we fucked every night, they must have heard us, the tent would move, I am quite vocal, Daniel would laugh.  They knew.  They didn't blink just accepted my choice, they were very kind.

When I say I am not homosexual, I mean I don't want to share any knowledge people are so judging. I just want to do what I want, if I have a preference it means I have to make a decision. I don’t want to.

 

I was with Daniel for most of the time I was in South Lebanon.  We pretended, well he pretended he was only interested in me for sex. I knew differently, he was very considerate that first time. I was open to him. We had a good time, but we knew it would not last.  I was always going somewhere, I am a traveller, he is a home bird. I was very fond of him but I did not love him.  See that is my problem, I grow fond; he loved me, that was his problem, his weakness was that he loved whoever he slept with, sex was meaningful to him.  He courted me for a couple of months and then he made love to me. He fell for me. He loved me. 

I have known love.

I let him make love to me, I let him dominate me, so I could learn how to dominate him. Then I switched. This is private. I don't talk about it.  I keep quiet about my love life because it gives the right impression. If I have no romantic life people won't be inquisitive about what I really do or want. It means I am free, no commitment, no judgement.  I go either way.

I told you I am not homosexual.


	6. Broadcast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie starts working on the broadcast, he has to work with Timothee. He produces a draft script, he is not sure how his material will be received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't at me. They were not even born.

I noticed the Star of David in our next meeting. I am not sure if he was wearing it the last time. It was on his cravat, a stick pin, he dressed like a creative.  In fact he put together a very smart outfit. The cravat was a mixture of the colour of his eyes, a green, blue and hazel paisley pattern, he was wearing an off-white shirt open to accommodate the cravat. Trousers were navy and brown tweedy looking sweater, again almost the colour of his eyes.  He looked like something off a fashion plate.  I looked like my father.  I looked down at what I was wearing, it wasn’t bad but. 

Clothes were meaningless in the context of what we were trying to achieve, at least that is what I told myself, I felt like a country bumpkin although I had more social leverage than him.  At least I thought I did.

After my initial reluctance, I got on with the job.  Ben gave me a few ideas that he thought might be interesting to an American audience, the stories would be broadcast in Europe and via our affiliates in the US.  The first story was about his Aunt Matya, and her journey from Poland to America, she had recently managed to obtain the right paperwork to emigrate after witnessing the pogroms which were taking place in Eastern Europe.  Poland had suffered a Great Depression as had the US and other parts of Europe; minorities were taking the brunt of the effects, anti-Semitism was on the rise, those who could were looking for ways out of Germany, Poland and Czechoslovakia.  The economy in Poland was still depressed and wages for some minorities had fallen by half.  Matya and Samuel were educated, he was a doctor, she had studied at a polytechnic and had worked in local government. 

When the economy was booming in the 1920s, they were respected and invited to many homes and similarly people came to their home.  When the economy plunged, life became hard, the invitations stopped, they were shunned and shouted at in the street, it was becoming unsafe.  Samuel saw his list of patients fall dramatically.  They had to get out.  A stream of Jewish families were beginning to make their way to friendly countries like England and the United States.  Ben’s Aunt and her husband were lucky, they had family in New York who were able to support them by taking them in, promising to house and feed them until they found their feet.  They had no children, so that made things easier – Ben stood to inherit whatever they had remaining at death.  He expressed an extreme fondness for them.  He had handed me a batch of letters, they were love letters sent to Matya by Samuel whilst he was studying to be a doctor and were to be woven into the piece.  She was studying at a polytechnic in Warsaw planning to work in local government, she worked for a few years then choose to marry Samuel instead of working, it was expected. He had to go to Germany for his degree – luckily German was taught in school so he was bi-lingual.  He attended Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin, which was founded in the 19th century and was a science oriented university with a medical school.  Samuel attended when the University was still regarded as liberal the home of great thinkers and scientists, former students included Einstein, Bismarck who unified Germany in the 19th century and African American Pan Africanist W. E. B. Du Bois.  He was in good company.

 

I decided to mix the story of migration with a love story, different journies different purposes steadfast love.

I gave a draft script to Timothee, and asked him to look at it.  I had also given a copy to Ben for editorial comment.  The script was meant to cover a fifteen minute early slot in Europe, in the USA the show would be broadcast at the behest of the affiliate radio station so it would go out at varying times.

These were the pages I gave them both.

 

**Tuesday Evening, 15th March**

Dear Matya,

Darling, as I should call you.  I hope you have recovered from your little cold.  I am so sorry I cannot be with you.  I want to be able to wipe your brow and feed you some broth, were you able to get some rest and time away from school?  Did they make you re-do your work?  If you want advice, please write me I can reply very quickly.

I miss you, I miss you, your cheery smile, the little dimples in your cheek.

Take care my sweet, I will send you a letter tomorrow, it is evening and I must go to hall for my dinner, so boring, I would much rather be eating and talking with you, cold or no cold, you are much better company.

Adieu my darling. Until tomorrow

Samuel

xx

**Music**

The road to America is not always paved with gold.  There are many who come to America to escape persecution and misery.  America is still the land of the free and we welcome many who come from Europe, people who have come to escape from religious bigotry. Our forefathers came to America to  practice their religion freely and gain the opportunity of settling in a land where enterprise and ambition can lead you to a rich and successful life.

Tonight I would like to tell you about Matya and Samuel Silverstein. They will be coming from Poland to settle in New York.  Their story is one which will be familiar to anyone following the disruption in Europe caused by the Great Depression and the invasion of countries too poor, and still coming to terms with changes which took place after World War One.

Samuel is a doctor, he lives in Poland.  Poland is a large country which has always suffered by being positioned between Russia and Germany, both countries want control. The fight over Poland goes back to the 17th century, the period that the America we know, was coming into being.  The struggles for power in Europe are the cause of many troubles across the world.  We live in times where the consequences of empire are only just coming to light.

Samuel’s country is poor but rich in resources. The education system was being rebuilt so in order to become a doctor he had to study in Germany, leaving behind his family and his fiancee.  We will be reading some of their letters of separation, perhaps we will be able to draw comparison with their time apart and their time to come where they will be apart from their homeland.

**Music**

**Friday, 18th March**

My Sweet Little Bear,

Today we had an exam on the skeleton.  I thought of you. I remembered how it was to hold you round your tiny waist.  How you just fit into my hands, how your head rested on my shoulder, the smell of your hair, your breath on my neck.  My darling I long to hold you close again, I can feel your fingers on my ribs, across my back, how you would squeeze me as we kissed.

As I examined the old skeleton before me I thought of your lively ideas, and how I could feel your heart beating, the very epitome of life, and I hope you won’t find this too much, I thought in time your body will carry my my child, a future.

Matya, I hope you are remembering me in the same way, perhaps not as ardently but certainly with love and the pleasure of remembering how we spent our days back at home over Christmas, I will leave you with the memory of the mistletoe hanging in your mother’s doorway.

My darling, until we meet again, take these two kisses and hold them on your mouth for me until then.

Goodnight baby,

xx

**Music**

Let’s take a look at what Warsaw was like in the 1920s.  It is a very interesting place by comparison to our American towns.  The period after the Frist World War is one where competing countries are still fighting over Poland.   Slowly peace was established, life becomes stable which means that communities settled and prospered.  The Jewish community was a strong element of Polish Society.  A few facts, don’t worry we won’t make you work too hard with this information.

Matya’s memories of Poland centre on the family she will leave behind, the friends she has gained over the years, some of them like Ruth are school friends, others like Joseph are colleagues from the office she worked in.  She will lose the customs she practised – not the religious ones, the habits of a daily life.  Routines for work, for play. 

The town of Warsaw where they lived, was like the rest of Poland strongly influenced by Jewish life. Around 40% of the total population in Poland were minorities: Jews, Ukrainians, Belarussians, Germans – in Warsaw Jews made up 40% of the city’s population, and Poland had the largest Jewish community after America. 

If you were Jewish in Poland in the 1920s life was very good.  Over 50% of doctors were Jewish and a good proportion of Lawyers and likewise for other learned professions. Political difficulties were between Hasidic or Orthodox Jews, and Zionists, they faced few problems from other Poles. After the Battle of Poland 1920, the competing partitioning countries of Russia, Austria and Prussia allowed Poland to form their own government under Józef Piłsudski, the political landscape was liberal, only changing when the economy was pressurised by the Great Depression.  With the onslaught of the Depression fortunes changed for everyone, but especially for the Jewish community.  It was at that point that many sought to leave.

**Music**

Yiddish was the language which you could hear fairly frequently on the streets, Matya was able to converse with her neighbours in her own language.  If she wanted to buy foodstuffs she could go to Mensheims on the local square, bread could be bought every morning. When Samuel and Matya were courting they could go for a coffee and a piece of Babka – a polish pastry, on a Sunday morning.  Sabbath was freely observed, towns made allowances for the fact their Jewish community could not work or use machinery from Friday night to Saturday night.  Matya and Samuel were the children of family friends, it was often the way that couples met.  And, if help was needed to find a romantic partner, a friendly matchmaker would chaperone potential couples into relationships.  Sometimes the old ways are the best.

 

**Thursday 30 th May**

Dear Sweetheart,

A quick note which may arrive after you see me. I wanted to write you because the first garden flowers of the year are opening their buds.  I am reminded of your mother’s garden, do you remember how we last sat in the swing chair? I remember your rosebud mouth, the colour of a red rose.

I pack up my things ready to come home for a summer break, and I can say that I look forward to seeing you again.  You, with your lovely smile, so welcoming, always ready with a comforting word, able to bring peace to my troubled heart.

I said a quick note, so I end here.  I will see you very soon my darling Matya, take these kisses and hold them to your heart, I will be there soon to place my own hand on your heart, remember me.

To my true love,

Samuel

xxx

 

I hadn’t written any more, this was my first attempt.  I must admit I found it more difficult to write a broadcast, it had to be informative and easy to listen to.  Patterns of speech had to be considered, reading a piece on radio is very different to reading a book, the rise and fall of a voice had to be written into the text.  The person reading had to be skilled in order to make the material come alive. For the first time in my writing career, I wasn’t sure how I had done.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Timothee are working together, things take a turn. Armie is not as enigmatic as he thinks he is and a little unravelling occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction don't @ me, they were not even born,

I went back to the office two days later.  Ben called me into his office.  I am looking back on what happened.  It is somewhat of a dream.

 

“Armie, come in come in. Lovely to see you.  Let’s get a coffee”

He was too friendly, something was up.

“How are you? We haven’t had a proper catch up in a long long time”

He went over to the coat rack got his jacket, took my elbow and lead me back out of the room before I even knew what was happening.

“Let’s go to Café Kranzler.  I want to catch-up with you and talk about the radio show.  It’s a bit chillier, than I thought – I should have brought my scarf, never mind.  Well, how are you Armie?”

I withdrew into myself.  I wasn’t going to give him anything.  He watched me do this, he knew me well, some people are able to read me very well, he was one.  I liked him for it.

“Come on Armie, what is it?  I know you are uncomfortable with this.  Don’t you like him?  Would you prefer not to write these pieces?  You can carry on with your other work, if you prefer”.

The thing was I didn’t.  I wanted to carry on.  It was good for me to branch out, I was learning new skills.

“No, no – I am just finding the transition in writing more difficult than I thought.  I am used to the long form of writing, you know thought pieces.  Now I have to work out if it not only reads well but if it can be spoken.  I will get it I just need a little more time.”

“There’s no hurry Armie, we don’t have to start recording for another couple of weeks, Timothée needs a final copy next week, so he can start work on it. You won’t mind if he makes a few changes, will you?  So that he feel that the text belongs to him. It has to be collaborative. Why don’t you meet up with him, you can work together on the text.  He might have some ideas on how to re-phrase some of the words.  You still get the writing credit, it is your source material. I am happy with what you have done.  It could be a little lighter, but that will come, it is your first attempt.”

“OK, thanks Ben”

We have reached the café, got a table inside it was a little breezy outside.  The waitress brought us our order, two coffees, my normal snack of toast and honey, Ben had a couple of sweet wafers.

I looked up and there he was.  I had been set up.

My bottom partially lifted off the chair, I wanted to get out of the café.  I settled back down but my leg started jumping.  I had to calm myself down, my face had turned a little pink, I could feel the heat coming off me.

“I thought so.”  Said quietly, Ben was smirking.

I wanted to punch him.  Timothée approached, a tentative look on his face.

“Don’t leave me with him.” I hissed at Ben.

“Is it OK if I join you?”

I adopted the sneer.

“Why not? Conveniently, we are discussing the piece”

Ben adopted manners.

“Morning Timothée, it’s nice to see you.  Do join us.”  He got up to order.  “What would you like? Coffee? They do a nice Babka here, or do you want something more substantial?  Have you had breakfast?”

Timothée wanted breakfast: some bread, butter, charcuterie and cheese arrived with the coffee.

Ben spoke.  I was being childish.

“Well, how are you Timothée?  How are you getting on with the piece?”

“I’m well, recovering from a strenuous session with an overly dramatic soprano.  She needed some help with her return to the stage. Have just spent an hour trying to get her to relax. I am worn out and it is only just past eleven.  Can you pass me the sugar please Armie, thanks.” 

He started on his breakfast drank some extra sweet black coffee.

 

“The piece?” Armie abruptly interjected.

“I made some changes. Hope you won’t mind.” He had an easy off hand way of speaking, well not offhand more like completely at ease.  Confident. An assumption that everything was OK.

He looked at Armie and Armie felt his opinion didn’t matter.

“I had to make it fit my cadence, your sense is still there and the information.  It is quite a fascinating story.  Very interesting, humane. My family have had similar problems.  My mother’s family are Jewish, Papa is American, Maman is French.  We ended up in Germany because he wanted us to be multi-lingual and we could afford to travel. We lived in Paris and New York when I was young.  They have gone back to America.”

Armie had been listening.  He picked up the parents lineage, the unusual reference to his mother and father, but also that Timothee did not mention that his father worked.  Did he have a trust fund, one of those dissolute old money types?

“What did your father do?”

“He was a diplomat, not the actual diplomat but a senior member of the embassy team.  He dealt with cultural affairs, it is where I became interested in music and voice.  I also learnt piano to concert standard, but I didn’t like being on stage. So I took up voice production and conservation – it is very satisfying because you can see the results almost immediately.”  He smiled pleasantly.

“Chalamet, that isn’t American, that’s foreign.”

“It’s French, my grandfather came from Perpignan.”

For some reason, Armie wanted to knock the smile off his face.  Ben gave him a cautioning look. What is the matter with you?

Truth was Armie was trying to find something wrong with him.

He was too fucking good to be true.

He wasn’t normal.

He would find something.

“Siblings?”

Now Timothée was on guard.

“A sister.  Naomi.”

“Younger or older?”

“Older”

“I suppose you found it difficult having an older sister, do your parents find it difficult to treat you like an adult?  It must be annoying to always be second.”

“Armie…”  Ben stepped in.

“It’s alright Ben.  I am used to spoilt passive aggressive individuals, remember I have just had a tutorial with a whiny soprano, some people don’t, or won’t, deal with their own issues and find it difficult to manage adult relationships.”  He picked up his jacket and bag.  “Ben, if you still wish me to continue with the project, just drop me a line.  I always complete whatever I have started.  I don’t need any additional text…I can fashion what we have into some kind of shape…we can discuss dates for recording.”  He and Ben made some indefinite arrangements.

Armie withdrew into himself again. He recognised he was being an ass.  He couldn’t work out why.  He thought about Timothée, he was nice not like he thought he would be. He was confused. He had spent a fair amount of time in the other café basically stalking him.  He wrote about him. Reality was somehow better than what he could ever imagine.    This was fucking crazy.  He had his chance and now he was destroying it.  Chance for what?  That was the real question.

Why self-destruct?  Was it because he felt rejected after he had helped with the soldiers? Was it something deeper, the possibility of really getting to know him?  So many fucking questions.  It was too much.  He couldn’t answer.

“Did you get what you wanted?”

“No.”

“What did you hope to achieve Armie?  He is a nice young man.  He likes you.  And you are behaving like a fucking bitch.  What is your problem?”

Armie liked him too. He was trying to get Timothée to reject him before they were emotionally involved.  If Timothée didn’t want to work with him or talk with him, he was safe.  He hadn’t rationalised this yet.  His primary instinct was to avoid hurt.  He wasn’t ready.  His subconscious was still processing what had happened.

“He admires your work and he likes you more than as a colleague. He is interested in you, and he is shy, not really so confident.  This could be something.  He doesn’t have much experience in relationships.  But I will tell you one thing, he knows himself and he is comfortable with himself.  It’s time you think about what it is you really want, or you could spend the rest of your life fucking up potentially great relationships because you want to be enigmatic and secretive about yourself.  You aren’t fooling anyone, we all know you prefer men and we like you regardless.  All this I don’t have romantic liaisons or I am not sure whether I prefer men or women is bullshit and the sooner you find a way of dealing with it the better. Otherwise one day you will wake up and wonder why when you had the opportunity, you’ve not taken it and there’s no-one left who wants to fuck you. Or worse wants a relationship with you.”

Armie felt like his world had collapsed, he felt cold; his stomach and bowels were deciding what to do, clenching and unclenching.  Fight or Flight?  He opened his mouth, nothing came out. Ben left him to contemplate.  He sat there a further fifteen minutes gathering himself.

 

The metal doorbell of the café rang. The door opened and Timothée came back in, he sat quietly with Armie.  It was a while before anyone spoke.

“Timothée I’m sorry”

“Accepted”

“Can we finish the project Timothée?  I’m really sorry”

“It’s OK Armie, I don’t know what the issue is, but really it’s OK. I have been thinking about the conversation and I can’t work out what I did wrong. If I have said something to upset you, please tell me.  I would hate to think that it is my fault that we don’t get along.”

“I’ll be in touch.” 

It was all too much. Armie got up and left the café.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie has to meet with Timothee to discuss the broadcast. They get into a deep conversation and Armie is forced into looking more closely into the underlying issues that drive him. Timothee is being very clear not only about what is happening in Germany but also the possible impact this will have on them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't at me. They were not even born.

Armie took back the piece from Timothy, they had met at the office to work through the material and make a formal peace, wariness on both sides.  He worked on it overnight and met him again the next day.  Timothee still seemed a little anxious and he came across as a little abrupt.

“I’ve re-arranged this paragraph – see here, changed that word and the punctuation.  Can you read it for me please so I hear if it sounds alright.  I think it should be OK but I can’t tell by reading it myself.

I want to add some local colour make it feel like the listener is right here in Berlin. Perhaps add some details on what is happening to Jewish businesses how they are disappearing because of persecution.”

Armie thought he was droning on a bit. He was anxious himself, he looked for Timothée’s reaction.

“It was alright as it was, I don’t know why you keep changing it.  Ben was happy with it.  I have already worked on it and virtually finalised it, now I’ll have to re-work it.  I hope you haven’t changed the rest of the piece as much as I have spent a great deal of time on it already.”

That mixture of directness and confidence. Perversely it was attractive.

Armie thought he should hold his tongue.  He didn’t want to get into an argument with him.  He probably wasn’t going to write another one anyway, plus he found dealing with Timothée quite difficult.  He gave off as calm and even and tempered but there was always something that was on edge with him, a border of shade.  Sometimes Timothée would be easy going, very friendly, other times salty and reserved. Armie didn’t feel like he could legitimately ask what was wrong.  At the same time, he realised that the cause of the behaviour might well be himself.  He still had Ben’s words ringing in his ears.  Wasn’t sure if he had to make some kind of decision about Timothée, because well he wasn’t sure

He noticed that the Star of David was gone.  Timothée was dressed conventionally, shirt, tie, woollen vest, matching trousers and jacket – not a suit, all a mixture of dark blues and mid greens, it lit his face and enhanced his eyes. His freckles shone across his face. Armie found himself looking at him, and looking meaningfully.  He had a fine bridge to his nose which was narrow flaring delicately, his eyes were widely spaced giving him a youthful look, his lashes framed his eyes darkening his irises which were a palette of green, brown and blue.  And his mouth…his was mouth soft, the colour of old faded velvet curtains, and just like old curtains dimpled and crushed – he could feel his mouth his lips, drawing them in, sucking on them, tongue tasting the depth of his mouth.  Saliva was running across his cheeks, he had to suck it down, involuntarily sucking his tongue to do so, reminding him what it felt like to want someone, to taste them, to want to fuck them and to know what someone wanted physically.  It has been a long time.

“Armie…Armie, you’re not listening. I’ll start again”.

Fuck.

“What happened to your tie pin?”  He interrupted before Timothée could re-read.  Timothée glanced at him, studied his face.  He was deciding what to tell him, a lie or the truth?

“As you know I am Jewish, but I am an American citizen so I am somewhat protected.  German Jewry is coming under pressure to prove that they are true Germans.  Papers and passports have got to be carried at all times.  If you are born here, it is expected that you will carry papers confirming your right to be here and that you are a true German in spirit. It is becoming very difficult to be Jewish in Berlin.”  He stopped to gauge Armie’s reaction. “My family are Zionists, but as you know they are not here. I have no protection and I am beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.”

Armie was at a loss. He looked like a home grown German, he knew he could thank some distant European relative for his safety, he was grateful.  He wasn’t pure blond his hair showed through as light brown or dark blond highlights, he was tall and blue eyed.  In the time he had been in Berlin, he had suffered very few problems but he had watched Berlin change. When he had arrived things were starting to get difficult for Jewish families, they were being prevented from entering medical and legal professions, and those in these fields were seeing their clientele reducing.  Jewish shops and quarters were being visited and forced to close down.  The 1936 Olympics were a lull in this discrimination, visitors were able to say that the German environment was pleasant, welcoming.  It was indeed a lull, after that year further restrictions were being imposed on Jews and other minorities were coming under scrutiny.   The era of wild Berlin had come to a halt.  ‘Degeneracy’ as defined by the government, was being hailed as a destructor of the German ideal, the arts were coming under pressure to conform to an Aryan ideal and a 1937 commission was charged with purging degenerate arts – this impacted on galleries, museums and theatres.  Timothee was becoming concerned that his work was coming under scrutiny.  He spoke.

“I was on my way home last night after a night at the theatre with my friend Paul, and got stopped for just walking down the street.  An SS soldier and his comrade wanted to see my papers, I was wearing my tie pin, it is gold and came from my grandfather. I treasure it.  I showed him my papers and my American passport, he let me go but he took the pin. I was frightened.

I know I was pushing things to wear it, but I won’t be intimidated.  I have lived here for a while. I wish I was old enough to have come in the 20s, to be here and experience a free Germany, now things are getting progressively worse.  German culture is amazing, the arts were something to be proud of: there were great thinkers like Hegel, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche and Karl Marx. Music beyond comparison – Bach and Beethoven. With this heritage I cannot understand the government.  They should be promoting those good German things, not trying to set everyone against each other.  Nothing makes sense anymore.

I don’t know if the theatre will soon stop employing me for fear of reprisals.  They are very liberal, but even our theatre programme is being scrutinised; we are being asked to only perform things that are government approved – they want to impose strict guidelines.  The government wants to eradicate Jews from society.  They are not saying directly but that is what is going to happen.  It is scary. I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know what is going to happen with my job.”

Armie didn’t know what to say

“Also Armie, we both need to be careful.  Today it is the Jews who are being observed, soon they will come for degenerates like me – homosexuals.  I know you do not identify as homosexual but I have seen the way you look at men, at me. And it is a question of time before you are questioned. Consider this, suppose you are a government agent, the question would be: Why aren’t you married?  You are a good age.  A good-looking man, a loner, stereotypically homosexual – They will come looking for you Armie.  I am under no illusions. I am Jewish and homosexual – I am not hiding that from anyone, I have a mark on my head already.”

I felt the words forming in my mouth: “I am not homosexual”

I couldn’t examine that, the thought instead came to me.  I am not homosexual. I didn’t feel it.  I didn’t go after men.  Did I want to have sex with men?  I didn’t generally look at men and assess their looks. I wasn’t competitive sexually with men, when I was in a group I didn’t look for a man to be my sexual partner, I wasn’t looking to find someone who was attractive and male. Men were not my sexual preference. I couldn’t be homosexual.  What did that involve?  There was that thing with Daniel.  I liked him enormously.  I liked the sex.  He is the only person who made me feel sexually fulfilled. When I had the thing with Daniel I longed for him and longed to be with him.  What was that?  Love?  Sex with women?  What was that?  The next question came: did I enjoy the sex with women?  I had to go two steps back, was that Love?

“Armie? Are you OK?”

I was shocked, my eyes conveyed my wonder.

He touched my hand.  It brought me back.

“Let’s finish the piece.”  I couldn’t deal with the thoughts, I had to concentrate on the work. It was what I had always done.  It was safe.

I wasn’t sure he understood, but his voice was gentle and empathetic.

“OK, where were we?”

I couldn’t concentrate.  All work was futile now.  What should I do?

“Timothée, can we go for a walk, I can’t concentrate now.  I need to clear my head.”

“Sure.  Let’s pass by the office, it’s only across the road – we can drop off our stuff”

I felt grateful.  I needed time to talk with him, I had to talk with him to find out about myself.

 

Ben saw us and called me into his office.

“Hi Armie, could I have a word – ah…Timothée I didn’t see you there, are you going somewhere, together?  I just need a moment with Armie.  I won’t keep him long, promise.”

I looked at him vaguely annoyed he spoke of ‘us’, like we were a pair.  Timothée just smiled.

He greeted Timothée warmly, giving him a hug, then he closed the door.

“Good to see you are getting on. Ah…don’t say anything, I can see from your face that you are not pleased with me.  I don’t really care.  I wanted to apologise for my outburst, but I can see it is not necessary. Ha Ha Ha.  Are you going out for a coffee?  The first proper date? He really is very fond of you, you know. Take care of him…Don’t fuck this up Armie.  You two are more alike than you know…chuckling followed…You can go now.”  With that he turned back to his work, dismissing me.

“We are not dating”

“Denying yourself again, oh well.” He didn’t even look up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie begins to come to terms with himself, forced by his meeting with Timothee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't @ me, they were not born

After we’d dropped off the various notes, notebooks and bags, we turned right and walked down towards the Brandenburg Gate with the intention of going along Budapester Strasse.

Timothée had some other ideas.

“My father was bi-sexual.  He is very understanding of my position.  He is married very happily to my mother and chooses to live a ‘straight’ life. But he told me that he could equally have lived with a man.  He told me it is only important to find someone that you love and can live with happily, someone who always make you want to come home. Even when times are tough and when you find it difficult to get on.  The desire to be near them must always be there.

He is very comfortable about himself and in turn that made me comfortable with myself.”

I didn’t like that he had started the conversation like this. It immediately put me in a difficult situation, I knew I had to share something with him also.  I didn’t want to share.  I didn’t have anything to share.  My upbringing was normal; and then I remembered my Uncle Robert, who everyone referred to in hushed terms.  He and my father had fallen out.  I didn’t know the cause, nobody went into it.  He lived in Kentucky the other side of Cincinnati.  He was described as having the temperament of a Kentuckian: right wing, biased, conservative in view and in the way he lived his life. There being a right and wrong way to do things, all guided by the bible.  I didn’t understand what the issue was.  I felt it had something to do with me. 

He ignored my silence and carried on questioning me.

“Didn’t you discuss these things when you were younger?  My Mom and Dad sat down with me and discussed all things related to sex and my choices, what was right and what to look out for, nothing was ruled out.  It made my life and choices much easier.

When did you decide that you preferred women?”

Now I was very much under pressure. I had never made a choice in fact I had just gone along with my peers, nobody was homosexual in my class – it was natural to assume that any relationship would be with the opposite sex. I was older than him, it just wasn’t spoke of. I had to explain.

“I don’t know that I made a choice.  It was something that was a given.  I just assumed that I would get married and that children would follow and my life would be normal. I didn’t think I had a choice.

When we had junior prom, I took a girl, Donna.  She was pretty, dark hair wavy like yours, I bought her a corsage, pink flowers which flattered her colouring – in fact she was stunning.  She chose to come with me rather than the football jock who had been chasing her all year.  I was stupid I didn’t realise how honoured I was.  I took her, was a gentleman and then walked her home.  I didn’t even put my arm around her.  I gave her my arm to walk her into the Prom and no touching after that. Nor did I try to kiss her when I got her on her doorstep.  I wasn’t interested.  I was just doing what was expected.”

“Do you ever get hard with a woman?”

After Daniel I learned to take what came, homosexual men tended to be very direct when talking about sex, indeed about life.  They were men, they liked sex that was it.  I answered honestly.

“Not really. Hard enough to have sex.  I have orgasms when I am inside a woman.”

Daniel came to mind and something passed across his face.

I couldn’t speak about Daniel.  I still kept that to myself, I don’t know why.  I did know but I couldn’t speak to him about it.  Daniel is still private to me.  I didn’t really know Timothée.  This was providing me with insight. It was useful.  That is what I told myself. Insight.  Timothee could teach me. A persistent protecting thought went through head, hold on - I can’t just be intimate with someone, Daniel courted me, I needed courting. He better not assume anything.  I need time – I never felt lust straight off and I still couldn’t initiate sex unless I had spent time getting to know my partner. I wasn’t made like that.

“Timothee. Do you ever just want to have sex with someone without spending time with them, get to know them first?”

“Yes.  Sometimes I go to a club because I want sex. The hand is not always enough.”

I blushed, I still blush very easily.

He asked me the same question that Daniel had.

“Don’t you ever just feel lust, just want to fuck someone?”

I lied.

“No”

 “You’re a liar.”

He was right. I was still lying to myself.  It was still a fucking mess.  There was one person, only one person who I wanted from the start, from the first time I had seen him.  I had stalked him daily.

I blushed again.

“Come on.”

He turned off the main street and started off back we had just come along Kufürstendamm, he turned down Bleibtreu Str, there was a bar – San Francisco.  I had never seen or heard of this place.  I started to feel anxious.

“What is this place Timothée, I am beginning to feel uncomfortable.”

“Shut up.  I am fed up of your lies. You have spent your whole life lying to yourself and to anybody who wants to gets close to you.  Shut the fuck up. I want you to be truthful to me.  I want your honesty.”

He dragged me in, and I allowed myself to be taken in because I wanted to be with him.

 

It was a small bar, there were a few tables to the back, standing room at the front. It was mostly men. It seemed like they all turned round to look at me, a few nodded or waved Hello to Timothée.

I noticed the smell straight away, it smelt too clean. My anxiety rose.

“Timothee is this a bar for homosexuals?”

“No.  It is for Bohemians.  We still have places we can go to and be ourselves”

“Who happen to be mostly homosexual.”

He gave me an unpleasant smile. And walked off.  Straight over to a young man. One who greeted him on arrival. An attractive slim young man, my colouring, his height 6’, very slim, slimmer even than Timothee, approximately the same age. I immediately felt downcast, inferior.  He put his arm around him.  He looked back at me, as if to say: What are you going to do? My heart was thumping.  I wanted to go over and drag him out of the bar. I had never felt this way about anyone. It felt like someone had stuck a pin in my heart.  But I couldn’t, I couldn’t.  I knew he wouldn’t come.  I didn’t own him, and I didn’t really know him.

“I’ll have an absinthe.” My voice was small, stuck in my throat.  My heart was hammering. My brain had shut down, I existed by instinct only.  Timothée didn’t try to play up, he was quietly talking to his friend, they had split from the group and were engrossed in each other. The crowd had gone back to their conversations. They had seen the battle for power. I could leave or try to hold my own. I had marked myself. I had ordered an Absinthe, that meant I was one of them.  The thought came unbidden: I am not a homosexual.  I stood there watching, waiting for Timothée to come back to me.

“Hello.”

I turned to see who had spoken.

“My name is Klaus.  You are not German are you?”

His voice was pleasantly accented. No-one paid any attention. It was up to me to respond, I had come with Timothée, but I wasn’t with him. He had made that clear.  The whole bar has seen.

“Hello, no I’m not German – how did you know? I’m Armie by the way” I answered in German.  Klaus relaxed.

“Is your boyfriend cross with you?” Direct, I liked this, straight to the point. I knew where I was with Klaus. He wanted me.  He was checking on my situation.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“So what are you doing here? I come quite often and I have never seen you”.

“Well guess what, I think I have been missing out.  There’s a first time for everything.” 

I thought fuck it. Timothee is not going to come back.  The conversation carried on in this vein for a while.  He made me laugh, I enjoyed his company.  He was also my equal in size, we were quite a pair, both around 6’ 5”, he might have been slightly taller than me. It made me feel a little vulnerable. I am nearly always the tallest man in a room. He could give me some height back. I realised what it must be like to be the smaller person in a sexual relationship, a sense of being the one who has to be looked after – I remembered it well. Then this came to me. I didn’t know this man, and I was thinking about sex already. I had no choice, here it was.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”  I wasn’t ready.

“You know what Klaus, I like you, would you mind if we met again – this is all a bit new to me. I’d like to see you again.  I have tickets for The Merry Widow at Theater des Westens next Tuesday, would you like to come?”

“Yes, Armie I would.  Shall we meet at the theatre an hour before, we can have a drink in the theatre bar.  I would like that very much.”

“So, Good night Klaus, I shall look forward to seeing you on Tuesday.”  I reached up and kissed him, on his cheek.  He coloured slightly.  I liked that, he was not presumptuous.  No one flinched or paid any attention.  I felt a hand on my arm as I was going through the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Home Timothée, Goodnight” I left that fucker there.

 

Klaus turned up, I was a little anxious that he would flake on me.  He was just as I remembered. Tall, good looking, blonde properly blonde with deep blue eyes, he was my complement.  The way cleared before us, we were imposing. I deferred to him. He bought me drinks and paid for the late dinner that we had. After we had eaten, he walked me home.  He came into the doorway of the apartment block, pulled me off the main hallway, checked that no-one was around, and kissed me thoroughly then made arrangements to meet on Saturday.  He too was shy.  This huge man was a gentle giant, all the time we were in the theatre he would brush my leg with his fingers, take my hand and squeeze it.  When we walked down the street he would brush my shoulder as we walked, point out interesting buildings and the Nazi emblems that I had missed or would miss by using a finger on my body to get my attention or lean in and wait until he had my attention to point out what I was missing.  I liked him.

My days were spent working on the next piece for broadcast.  The company were very happy with the first piece, both the material and with Timothee.  His reading brought real emotion and sympathy on hearing.  For the time being we were working on a professional basis.  After the trip to the bar, he was distant, I didn’t need to see him frequently as I was still gathering material.  Our time in each other’s company would increase as I got closer to a final product. Meanwhile Klaus and I grew closer.  I invited him round for dinner, it was a prelude to sex.  So far Klaus had only kissed me, I invited him round to see what he would do. He was careful not to press me, he would find a way of touching me in a non-threatening way, a hand on a shoulder, he would pass me a glass and make sure our fingers brushed, guide me discreetly when we crossed roads or put his hand on my back whenever it was possible without incriminating ourselves.  We had to have a care, homosexuality was not tolerated, but it seemed that the authorities allowed ways for some expression through allowing clubs to continue trading. There were raids: Tingel-Tangel on Kant Strasse suffered one which led to its closure. This club still had cabarets and catered solely for a homosexual market, its downfall.  They were very open, the clientele were not discreet the dress was not sombre and the behaviour of some was not respectful of the current political environment.  It taught me that the authorities were still operating a live and let live culture, this might change at any time.  So I was discreet with Klaus.

He arrived around 7.30pm, I cooked one course and bought the dessert.  After we had eaten, we sat in the living area of the apartment and he put his arm around me. I leaned into him and kissed him.   That was the only invitation he needed. He was indeed a gentle giant, and gentle in bed.  It would probably have broken my bed if he weren’t. I liked that I was again having regular sex, in fact I revelled in it once we started I insisted he came over to my apartment at least twice a week, purely for the sex, if he came over four times in a week. I felt satiated, four times a week was sufficient to me make me feel that I had had more than enough sex for the week. And yet it wasn’t enough, and he knew.

“Do you like making love Armie?”

“Of course, I am very happy. You are a very considerate lover, I couldn’t ask for better.”  I was learning.

“You have orgasms but I don’t feel like you are satisfied.”

He had hit on the problem.

“Well I am not complaining, there is nothing more you can do.”

“You don’t love me.”

Fuck.

“We haven’t known each other long.  I don’t fall in love easily, it will take me time to get there. Don’t worry, I like you enormously.”

“What do you really feel Armie?  Do you think you can love me?  Do I excite you?”

I fell silent.  I couldn’t be honest with him.  I knew that I would never love him because I hadn’t fallen for him.

Or could I be honest with him.

“Klaus, you came to me at a difficult time…I have said that this is new to me. I was being forced to confront some things about myself which I had been ignoring.  I am still on that journey.  I do like you, I want to spend time with you, you make me happy. 

Perhaps, it might have been better if you had met me later in my journey. I still have to find out about myself…I have a lot to think about…can’t we carry on as we are?...I can’t give you any more than I am at the moment and it feels like a lot to me…it’s all new…bear with me?”

As I said the words, I knew this was goodbye.  I was rambling and talking shit. I did see him again but I should say our relationship ended that night.

 

“Stopped fucking the gestapo?”

“He wasn’t gestapo. Mind your own fucking business.”

Timothee was smiling.  He was fucking annoying.

“How are you getting on with the material?  Now you are not fucking anyone, you’ll be able to concentrate.  Plenty of time to carry out your research.”

“The work is nearly complete.  I’ll bring in a draft tomorrow – that is when we arranged to meet.  What are you doing here anyway?”

“I came to see you.  San Francisco have another social evening, there will be some singing, recitations and poetry.  The theme is the Works of Goethe.”

“That sounds exciting…when is it?

He looked puzzled.

“Are you being sarcastic? You don’t have to fucking come, God! Why can’t you be straightforward?” He started to walk off.

“Timothée, calm down, I’ll come.  No need to get annoyed.  What date? And, what time does the evening start?”

“…I’ll get you a ticket, Saturday, be there for eight.”

 

Eight was too early.  There were some customers but the bulk of the crowd would not be arriving until the evening was really starting which was nine.  Timothee turned up at half eight draped around the same young man, who I had learned was called Lukas.  I was beginning to learn not to mind, I knew he was temporary, a means to an end.  I spotted Klaus, we had stayed friends – he had a new boyfriend, someone who clearly adored him. I didn’t mind but I knew Klaus still held something for me so I would play on it and make him sleep with me occasionally.  The sex got better for being illicit.  I only had to make it known and the boyfriend would disappear, I kept quiet, but friendly.  I sat at their table. 

I am good at keeping secrets. 

A friend of theirs Bruno, joined us.  I went home with him.  His ass was hairy – never again.

I didn’t need to go to San Francisco very often, I had made a few friends there and went for drinks with them, I didn’t go there to pick up men.  I was falling in with an arty crowd, Klaus was still around, it was sufficient.


	10. Foreign Correspondent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie tells us how he became a foreign correspondent. We also find out more about his personal life, remember he is an unreliable narrator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't @ me.

I got into Foreign Correspondent journalism fairly easily. It was a series of co-incidences. 

My high school had an exchange program with a school in Berlin, it was one of the first High Schools to run these programs, which became more popular later on.  A select group of students would exchange homes for a week.  It was unusual – normally only those who had studied German or French were allowed to go. The year I went, someone dropped out at short notice, the family spoke English so I was offered the opportunity and allowed to go.  The family were very welcoming, and ensured that I didn’t feel uncomfortable, they took me all around Berlin and to visit their family.  At that time Germany was not so politically dangerous, the environment was liberal and lively, Germany was recovering from the First World War I liked it very much.  I thought about taking up German but it was too late, I was seventeen and already studying the subjects I thought would help me get into a career in writing or journalism, so I left it as something I would pick up later.

The next co-incidence was my piece on German immigrants for the Post. I had met a couple who had come to America because they could see that the political environment was changing and wanted to bring up their children in a safer fairer world. Christophe and Maria Roethl had four children ranging between 10 and 2, they were catholic.  I liked Christophe immediately.  He was dark haired, about 5’ 10”, carried himself well always dressed smartly in a suit and wore colours that enhanced his naturally heightened colour.  He looked like something from an 17th century Italian painting, skin pale but undershot with rose, his dark wavy hair longer than most people wore, he wore a cravat instead of a tie, his outfits were more Edwardian than modern. He was solid and muscular in build.  His wife was petite, a smaller version of his dark hair and colouring, she was a housewife and dressed like one, I didn’t care for her. They looked Jewish but in fact came from a region near Strasbourg, their family was part French but they lived in Germany.

He was 35, his wife was 32.  I was 27, it was just before I returned home for the wider role I had with the paper.

I wanted him after our first meeting.  My body betrayed me.

He was a pharmacist so would always be in work.  His wife of course stayed at home, they could not afford additional child care, as they were just setting up home in America.  He was lucky and found a job with Cincinnati General Hospital within two weeks of arriving. He had to start at the bottom rung, and took some conversion courses but did not mind being effectively a junior, he would soon work his way back up the ladder of his profession. They both spoke some English, Christophe more so than his wife.  He had sufficient to carry out his work and put a card in my local cafe for some help with conversational English.  He just wanted someone to spend an hour with him a couple of times a week, just reading papers and discussing the content.  It would help him to learn about his new country and improve his language skills.  I didn’t have any German, so he was forced to speak English with me.  I borrowed a German-English dictionary from the library, we sat comfortably going through the day’s paper or I would bring an American classic, having selected a few pages for us to go through. We got on from the start.  We would meet after work around 5.30pm.  One evening I asked if he wanted to have an early dinner. He looked up into my eyes and at me directly.

“Why bother eating?”

 

I was nervous.  I took him to my apartment. He pushed me against the door as soon as we were in. He pressed himself up against me, wrapped his arms around my neck; I could feel his dick was already engorged, wanting to stand up – it was the first time I had ever had a man line himself up with me cock to cock.  I could hardly breathe.  He pulled my tie off, opened my shirt and began sucking on my neck, he left bruises, my dick was now lying upwards against my hipbone, seeking friction. He placed his hand on it, and rubbed me through my trousers, I felt a wetness as pre-come came. I moaned. He kissed me.  He turned me round and began dry humping my ass, his hands were on my chest, feeling for my nipples which he squeezed.  I pressed my ass into his dick.  His hands found my cock, he carried on squeezing and rolling his hand up and down. We changed places and he undid his trousers, pulled his dick out, it was hard and leaking.

“I don’t want you to make a mess on my trousers, you know what to do?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know what to do. 

He laughed, placed my hand on it and got me to stroke him, all the while kissing me. This was where I established my pattern of not taking the lead.  It was thrilling to be told what to do.

He had a hanky ready.

He taught me all kinds of things. He had a good brain. He had an intense knowledge of Art. We had deep philosophical discussions but we never fucked, nor did he touch my dick with his mouth. That was his compromise, he wasn’t being unfaithful, just satisfying a need.  He was never going to leave his wife.

Our affair lasted six months, his English improved and he had nothing left to teach me. We parted on good terms.  I was not homosexual, this was just an experience which I chalked up and enjoyed.

 

The next point of contact regarding Germany was in 1933, that was a year of momentous change in the country. There were many events which led to World War Two, the far right clashed with communists; the Gestapo was established; the plight of the Jews was brought into the light as Jewish businesses suffered a one day boycott; German Citizenship, Passports and other privileges were withdrawn from celebrated artistes and writers and key of all, Dachau concentration camp was opened.  These activities were disturbing for the majority of the wider world but assumed to be nothing to be alarmed about.  After all, Germany was still coming to terms with outcome of the First World War, the relevance of the concentration camp was not recognised. 

In short there was a lot of news in and about Germany.  Other European countries were more concerned with getting reparation payments and revising borders, they did not realise the significance of the events which were occurring across the year.  In 1934 I asked if there was any opportunity to travel to Germany and bring back a story of interest to our readers.  Initially Mr Blakemore refused, then more news came about the large numbers of Germans who were leaving the country.  I asked again.  I was told I could go for a week, and to bring back stories of families who had lost relatives, either through disappearance or immigration particularly if the families had a connection with Ohio. I went back to Christophe, he was able to give me some contacts whom I communicated with first.  There was a freelancer Brice Jones, who had previously worked at the Post.  I started to communicate with her as she was based in Berlin. She spoke German, I engaged her to act as my translator – we decided to split the story between us. She would sell it to Europe, I would sell the story to America or at least anyone in Ohio or Kentucky.  Kentucky was by turn liberal or conservative, but politically alert. The Courier-Journal picked up the story too and asked if I would be interested I writing a follow-up, following up the predicament of the families featured.  I went to Berlin for a week; it wasn’t long enough, I asked for a leave of absence so I could give the story justice.  I was there for a month.  I took a risk and resigned.  It was hard at first, I had to depend on my parents again.  I quickly picked up some German, enough to get by, Christophe had spoken German to me sometimes, so I was used to the form, it made it easier to pick up. The Post kept me on as a stringer, The Courier-Journal also.  Other papers started to take my stories, I began to make a living and decided to stay to see how things turned out.  If the worse came to the worse, I would return to America, after this experience New York was a possibility.

I based myself in The Post’s affiliate offices in Berlin.  It was a bit cheeky, but the Berliner Tageblatt was a recognised liberal paper and the government wanted to foster the idea of a free press and so it was a natural home for The Post. The Berlin paper gave my Editor his own office and a four man office that stringers and freelancers like myself could use.  Ben had joined a year earlier and acted as an Editor come commissioning Editor for a number of American papers and Radio Stations – he too was freelance.  He was a busy man. I appreciated his help and common sense.  He was a straight talking man. He was my great friend and I valued his advice and support.  He and his wife would take time to invite me to drop in to their house for a drink or a bite to eat. 

Once Timothée was on board, he would often be in attendance.  Over time we built some kind of friendship; we behaved when we were in Ben’s apartment or at work, elsewhere we acted like we were close to being lovers although we were nowhere near.  I liked the Timothée who came to Ben’s, the other one was a brat, the brat was attractive and knew how to use it.  The latter would look me up and down, flirt with me, draw me into corners and make me giggle, then walk off to charm a newcomer.  He too was a fucking liar, he was not shy only selective about who he communed with.  I couldn’t yet work out how to deal with him, but he did seem to seek me out, I was not complaining.


	11. Mathias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie is beginning to make progress in discovering and coming to terms with himself, he and Timothee are talking but they are still some way off entering a relationship, in fact they are dancing around the idea, some one needs to make the first step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't at me.

I had been in Berlin for coming on three years.  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be around much longer.  The political environment was proving increasingly difficult, discrimination was rife and was moving from government sponsored hate to one where the local population were variously anti or supportive. It was becoming unsafe and proving difficult to get witnesses to provide testimony for copy for fear of reprisal. One thing was clear, the wider World was not yet aware of how far the German leaders were willing to take their philosophy, for instance cricketers came from England to play and Harvard invited German Leaders to campus .  I sent reports back to The Post and wrote another broadcast which explicitly described what was happening on the streets.  The slant on this piece was the effect on those who had to carry out the demands of the military and government.  Many went along with the government’s plans because it was safe and a way of ensuring their own safety, at the same time it rubbed up against the liberal progressive nature of old Berlin.

Theatres were still open, Jeremy my English colleague and fellow freelancer kept up our habit of visiting a show or cabaret on a regular basis.  Theatres were closing down or having to conform to the ideals of the government.  There was one theatre holding out in Rixdorf, the Heimathafen Neukölln put on contemporary pieces some of which were openly shading the government.  The pieces did not criticise government but they did explain what was going on by putting words and actions into the mouths of actors which clearly outlined the pressures facing ordinary people.

Somehow Timothee had managed to get me tickets for a one-off revue which was being held on a Sunday night.  He had passed on them because he was still running around Lukas who was a heathen and not interested in theatre, they would spend Sunday evenings lying around somewhere.  Jeremy and I had an early light dinner and got to the theatre about 7.30pm.  We were drinking in the bar until the show opened at 8.00pm.  There was already a group of men there, they were grouped around a man in a vaguely sycophantic way.  I recognised him, Mathias Steinhoff an aviation tycoon.   He reminded me of Henry Fonda.  I manoeuvred myself so that I was standing next to him at the bar.  I dropped my drink so it fell near his shoe.  It was a Duralex type of glass, it didn’t shatter. The contents were water, so no problem with staining.

“I am sorry, the glass slipped – it’s only water.  Shall I get a cloth?”

“No, it’s OK.”

He turned back to his group.  When he left, he discreetly passed me his card.  It had a telephone number and an address, it looked like a residential address.

 

I sent a card. He responded with a letter.

 

Dear Armie,

I would very much like to meet with you, would like to have dinner?

As you can imagine, my schedule is very busy, when you first saw me I was entertaining a group of businessmen from Bremen.  They are my suppliers and in the current climate when the government needs men like me to supply them I have to no choice but to do some entertaining in the evenings to keep in the flow.

I will be upfront with you Armie, I also meet some of the Party Leaders, it is all to do with keeping the right image and to make sure my business survives. You need to know this because if we do spend any time together, you will be associating yourself with someone who one way or another is a party supporter.  I can hide my relationship with you, but know that at some point we will be seen together and people will talk.  Your friends, the bohemians may not like this – can you cope?

I will be at Haus Turkische on Thursday at 8.00pm – Come to the Hotel Haubach reception and ask for Tomas Schmidt, it’s a private dining club, not the other one.  It is on Haubach Strasse.  You’ll be taken through to the dining room.  It’s rather special.  I hope you can come.  I will wait for 30 minutes.

Wear something nice.

Yours,

Mathias

 

He had done some research, he knew the crowd I normally spent time with and he was not afraid to go ahead with meeting me.  I took courage in this. I didn’t know him, but I liked the look of him, physically and his aura.  I would do some research myself.

 

“Ben, have you ever met Mathias Steinhoff?”

He turned steely eyes on me.

“No, he supports the Nazis, why are you asking?”

I pondered, should I tell the truth? I decided against, this might turn out to be nothing.

“I thought I might do a piece on him, there are quite a few industrialists who are just going along with this whole mess.”

He wasn’t fooled.

“Really? Let me have look when you have something, we can probably do something with that, it might also make a good broadcast.  How’s Timothee?”

I looked steadily at him, I could see what he was doing.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him this past week, he has a boyfriend you know.”

Why did I say that?

I turned on my heel and left the office.  I heard Ben laughing behind me,

 

I met Timothee for lunch the next day.  I wasn’t going to tell Ben, he should mind his own business.

“How are you? It seems like a long while since we spoke properly”

In fact it was over a month, we had passed like ships in the night, the odd conversation at the bar or at work.  He wasn’t working with me at the moment, other people had started using him for radio broadcasts.  I don’t know how he did his day job, he had a few projects going on not just at the paper and still saw his singers.

 

“Still fucking Klaus?”

 “Yes.”

“Oh, thought you would be bored with that now.  You should try someone new.”

“I am working on that.”

“Really?”

The second fucking “Really?”

“Yes.  Can we not do this please?  I want to find out how you are.  What are you up to? How’s Lukas?”

He laughed, leant forward, and brushed my face with his free hand.   His soft fingers grazed my chin and cheek.  I didn’t care if we were seen.

He continued flirting openly with me.

He said nothing, but looked at me under his eyes, his long lashes swept with his eyes which caressed my face, his tongue traced his lower lip, lingering a little too long, it was clear and pink I wondered what it might...he withdrew his tongue and started sucking on it.  His hand now went to his throat, stroking his creamy throat...his mouth opened…the other hand went into his lap, moving rhythmically. It was all I could do to pay attention to the words which were coming out of his mouth.  He leant back, both hands now below the table, his legs shuffled apart, an involuntary hip movement, he was looking me straight in the eye.  We were in a booth at the back, it was just as well.

“Lukas is fine, he’s gone to see his family.  I miss him – especially physically, he is a very imaginative lover.  Work is work, I am busy. It is good.”

A socked foot was pressing my ankle, it pushed the trouser leg up and was rubbing the inside of my calf.

“Stop Timothée.”

“Why, don’t you like it?  You used to stalk me, now you are telling me to stop.  I haven’t forgotten our days at the café.  I noticed you.  You pretended that you were only there to have your snack – what is it?  Toast and honey.  Yes, toast and honey, the same thing every day.  Consistent. You turned up at 11.00am regardless, sometimes I would come just to see if you were there, and leave.  I knew that you would be there, but you never came to talk with me. 

Sometimes you just have to take what you want Armie, sometimes what you want is just waiting for you.  You only have to ask.”

He got up and went out of the café.

 

I still went to meet Mathias. 

I wasn’t ready for Timothée yet, I still didn’t know how to handle him.  It was a battle of wills, we both wanted the other to come forward first, to be explicit, to ask nicely.  Ben was right.

 

Hotel Haubach was a nondescript building on a street outside the centre of Berlin, near the Opera House.  Once I asked for Tomas Schmidt things took a different turn, at once deference was paid.  The host was gracious and polite, I was taken through corridor to the side of reception, through another a door and on the other side the décor changed, no longer scruffy and threadbare. All was full on glamour.  The room was discreetly lit, decorated in silver, creams and beige, there was a table lamp on each table.  I was brought to Mathias, he stood to greet me, his hand ready.  We were the only ones in the room.

“Hello Armie, how very nice to see you again.  Take a seat.”

“Good Afternoon, Mathias, I can say the same, it nice to see you too.  How are you?”  I felt a little stiff, too formal.  Was this a mistake?

A menu was brought, Mathias took control.  I sat back, He ordered the meal.  I saw that he was a man who was used to being in control.  This could be interesting.

“I am feeling intimidated, Mathias.”

“Really?”  A look of disgust passed on my face I couldn’t help it, that word again.

“You do look uncomfortable.  What is it?  Is this place too much?”

“No, it isn’t the surroundings, I am enjoying being here in this environment.  It is you.”

“OK.”  He laughed.  “I like your honesty.  What do you find intimidating?  Shall I dial down my charisma?”

I laughed.  “No, don’t.  It is just a little overwhelming.  You are naturally high powered, I am not used to it.  Most of the people I know seek affirmation and confirmation that what they are doing is OK.  You don’t, you just assume what you want and are doing is OK.  I like it, I just have to get used to it.”

“Let’s get the basics out of the way Armie, are you married?”

“No, I am very much a confirmed bachelor.” A Code.

“I am a widower, I am 50 years old, now I have no responsibilities, I do what I like sexually – I am bisexual and I have a female lover who I care for very much but I need a male lover, I cannot manage without one.  I have a daughter who is doing a postgraduate course in America.  She does what she wants too.  She lives with her lover, she is an adult.  I am free, my lover understands.  She wants no one but me, but I search for an equivalent male lover.

Why a confirmed bachelor Armie, what does that mean?”

“You know what that means Mathias.  It is something I have only recently started to come to terms with.  I have slept with both men and women, but I denied to myself that I preferred men.  I have had my most satisfying sexual experiences with men, I don’t know why it took me so long to deal with it.  But here I am, doing my best to deal with all of this.  I have never come close to wanting someone of my own.  I have had one or two long term relationships, but I am waiting for the one, I am not ready.”

Mathias looked at me.  “What is his name?”

“Timothée.  I can’t help myself with him, and we haven’t even kissed.  I work with him, for a while he would go to The Corner Café, near the Hebbel Theatre and I would make sure I was there, but I never spoke. Now we speak and I am no better off.”

“Why Armie? Speak with him.” 

I was becoming distraught.  “I can’t.  It means too much.”.

“Look how serious we have become already.  This is good, let’s eat.“  The first course arrived, a clear broth.  We started eating.  It was easier than talking.

And so Mathias became my lover.  He was my Lukas, temporary to hold off my one true love.


	12. Mathias (Cont'd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie goes deeper into his relationship with Mathias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't @ me. They were not even born

“Who are you fucking, I know it isn’t Klaus.”

“I’ll correct you - I am being fucked; and it is none of your business.”

“Let’s have dinner.  There’s a new place - we can dance, Café Uhlandeck, you probably know it, it’s on Kurfürstendamm”

“Won’t Lukas mind?”

“He won’t know.”

 

Mathias was very very discreet, I never saw him in a group, it was only us two.  He couldn’t afford to be seen with me a deux, that would wreck his life.  He took me to any number of out of town spots.  One evening he said:

“I am getting fed up of hiding with you.  Let’s take a trip abroad.

(Still hiding, but at least we could walk freely down a street)  

I have a villa on the English Riviera, let’s go there for a holiday. We might even have a few days camping.”  I laughed at the idea, everything was put into his soft hands, I could not imagine him camping.

I never paid for anything when I was with Mathias, he was very generous – and considerate.  He was for want of a better word, my sugar daddy.  I would tease him about this, he would go pink, he liked me, it was cute.

It was late Summer I could take the time, work was slow – everyone else was on holiday including Timothée who had gone to Schmallenberg to visit with Lukas’ parents, it was a spa town. There were other sorts of bath houses there too.

 

England still hadn’t come to terms with Germany’s quest for power, we would be relatively safe, merely tourists.  I looked forward to the trip.  Little did I know I was going from one fascist state to a town where a fascist party was trying establish itself, from Berlin to Torquay, different places same problem.  We flew into Exeter by private plane, Mathias, just hired one like I would hire a taxi, then we drove for a short while to his villa which was actually in Paignton, much quieter and safer.  The house itself sat on a hill with panoramic views stretching over the coast.  The garden was just big enough, it would take 10 or 15 minutes to walk around all the way round, there was a porch downstairs and balcony to the master bedroom.  It was very nice.   Mathias had borrowed a car from somewhere.  We cooked and cleaned for ourselves, went swimming and sunbathed, had long walks, read books and listened to BBC Radio, strolled down to local pubs in the afternoon and returned in moon light.  It was perfect.

We got back to Berlin; by comparison, the town was dark and gloomy – September was coming in and it should feel soft and welcoming, a promise of soft Autumn nights and crisp Winter days instead the weight of events was beginning to tell.  I really was not sure if I wanted to stay, I needed a reason.  Mathias began to grow anxious as we went through September and October, November came in and he sat me down.

“Armie, what are we going to do?”

“What do you mean, what are we going to do?”

“Things are moving on here, there are plans to destroy books and other cultural items which do not conform to ideology. The plight of the Jews is going to significantly worsen, the Party are going to stand by and let the people do their work.  It is a short path to removing people completely.  I don’t want to be part of that.”

He’d attended a lunch where Heydrich was present and had obviously heard some news. I did not spare him.  I liked Mathias but he was naïve, you cannot play with the devil and not get burned.

“That is already happening, have you not heard the rumours about concentration camps?  The number of people disappearing is increasing, it is just being organised now before it was being managed by individuals now it is being organised by the state.  I can’t get near the stories that I used to.  People are too frightened.  Most of my work now is straightforward reportage. What I see and my viewpoint of the situation, that is not good reporting – I can make it interesting but if I report all of the truth, I won’t be believed, even now countries which should be allies cannot agree what to do.

I can go home, what are you going to do?  You speak of what are we going to do but you talk of politics.  What is happening with us?”

I was serious.  I was serious about him.  I was beginning to feel the same way about him that I had with Daniel.  I decided to tell him.

“I want to live with you Mathias, I want to try living with my partner, how are we going to manage that? Tell me how you feel about me.”

“Armie, you have not used any words which persuade me that you prefer me to anyone, let alone Timothée.  Do you love me?  I love you.  I would live with you – we would find a way. But I will not live with you until you can tell me that you love me.  I don’t love you with the love of a child.  I have been married, I have some idea of what it takes to live with someone.  To love a person’s faults as well as their good traits.  You tell me, do you love me?” 

Now I was in a quandary. I did love him, but did I love him enough to truly commit, I wasn’t sure.

“I do love you Mathias. Do I love you, but more so than Timothée? That is something I cannot answer because I do not know Timothée like I know you.  I know what you are like in the morning. I’ve seen you before you have risen. When you haven’t slept.  I know when you are angry and how to manage you into a cheerful place, and I know when to leave you alone.  When to try to make you happy and when to show you that I care. I am committed to you.

The biggest question in my head is: If Timothée was to be explicit and honest with me and tell me that he wanted to try something, would I give you up?  I cannot answer that. That is going to be painful for you but it is the truth.  I know Timothée is something special to me, I wouldn’t want to let the opportunity pass.  And in case you wonder. I haven’t seen him in a while, a month. My time is taken up with work and with you.”

I wasn’t giving him a fair answer, but it was truthful. I did love him, but I did know that if Timothée and I starting talking properly, he would come first.  We were still not in a place where this could happen.  This conversation made me think hard about this.  What did I really want?  If it was Timothée, I had to tell him.  I had to find out. But first I had to work Mathias out of my system. I wasn’t finished with him yet.  I would move in with him, it may not last a long time, we would be taking a risk but I would do it.

“Come on Mathias, nothing is certain, we live in very uncertain times, there are many things that could stop us from being together.  Let’s try.  Let’s get adjoining apartments or let me move in with you as your executive assistant. I appreciate it will be difficult to integrate our lives. But I will do that for you.”

This was a lot, I might have to give up work. I waited for his response.  He understood what it meant.

“Armie, I love that you would give up some or all of your work to be with me.  But I would not do that to you.  You would lose your self-respect and the respect of your friends and colleagues.  Let’s meet each other's friends, you will come with me when I am entertaining or for work events – even if I have to find some spurious reason for your presence.  I’ll give you keys to my properties, you can come and go as you please, stay as long as you want where you want. If you wish to keep your apartment, do – you will be responsible for maintaining a separate residence.  You can stay in any of my properties, there is no need for you to keep your apartment on. Whenever you are with me I will bear the cost, as we have always done.  I love you and I want you to want to be with me.  I will do anything to make that easy for you.  You must communicate with me, talk to me, tell me if you are not happy – whether it is about how you fit into my life or you and Timothée find terms on which you can agree.  Is that fair?”

I went into his arms. 

“More than fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s call 1937 a long year, really we would need to looking at 1936 to 1938 to cover the events in this story.


	13. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie is becoming committed. Timothée is becoming anxious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't @ me.

He would sometimes make love to me, other times we had sex.  He knew what he wanted to do with me or to me and I acquiesced.

The first time he took out the whip I was frightened.  It was a black riding crop.  The tip had a small soft piece of leather doubled.  The rest was leather covered, it was expensive and expressive – very flexible. The first time he used it I heard it how it swished in the air, I learnt to love the sound.  It meant pleasure.

I started shaking, with anticipation.  He made me stand naked, leant me against a wall and put a finger in my ass, pushed it in and pulled it out, several times, my dick took notice.  Then he made me bend over, the finger came back, in and out, rougher this time, then two fingers, a little lube. I began to groan, he stood off. I heard the sound, four quick whacks on my ass. It hurt.

“That’s enough for now.”  He sucked me to orgasm.

Two days later.  I could still feel the strokes of the whip, he was an expert I had no welts. Just sufficient to make me remember and perhaps want more.

Three days later.  I sat easily.

Four days later.  The whip came back out.

“Take off your clothes.”  It was Friday, I might have time to recover.

This time he made me lie on the bed.

“Open your legs.”

“I’m not sure about this, what are you going to do?”

“I’m not going to hurt you.  Well I might hurt you but you will like it… 

...OK turn over, I will give you a reprieve.”

“What were you going to do?”

“I was going to whack your dick.”

“No fucking way.”

He hit me six times on the ass.

“Get up…Bend over.”

He fucked me with meaning. I came before he did, and I didn’t need my hand.  My ass was stinging, it stung more as he thrust behind me. He brushed me as he thrusted, the pain was delicious, the orgasm was overlaid by the sensation across my ass.  I began to wonder what it might be like to have my dick whacked.

“You can try it next week.”

 

We had straight sex for the next couple of weeks, but he would give me a couple of whacks every few days, to build up my stamina for punishment, because it was a kind of punishment.  And I wanted him to use it as punishment.  It was our secret.

 

He took me out openly.  I was his biographer, and therefore accompanying him on all of his activities.  I took the post seriously, I began to research him with ardour. I carried on my other work.  I didn’t drop anything to be by his side – my work for newspapers more or less continued normally.  Other people were curious, they could see we were close. After a while they just accepted that I would be present, he didn’t take me to his meetings with Party Leaders, that would be foolhardy, we were cautious but anyone could see that we were more than biographer and subject.  I occasionally took him out with me, the bohemians guessed what was happening, acknowledged and carried on. The Party turned a blind eye, he was useful to them.  I wasn’t fooled; it would only take one small slip to turn him into a degenerate, someone who was dispensable.  The party had started authorising local orders which demanded that Jews wore a yellow tag or badge and homosexuals, pink.  I was wary, because Röhm and other homosexual Nazi leaders had been shot and killed on specious grounds, the party was prepared to kill their own for something which ran against their beliefs – no one would spared because of their closeness to the Leader.

 

I saw Timothée regularly now, since he walked out on me he had become cautious and yet more inclined to spend time with me.  We spoke about this encounter, the conversation and his invitation to basically cheat on Lukas, it wasn’t resolved.  He was unrepentant. Our relationship was changing, we might be more than friends.

“How’s Lukas?  Has he come back from Schmallenberg yet?” 

Lukas was spending a lot of time in Schmallenberg now.  I think he was also becoming wary, Berlin was too politicised and the Nazi emblems and parades were increasingly visible.

“No, and I don’t think he will be coming back this time”

“Oh, won’t you miss him?”

“Not really – I was using him.”

“Care to explain?”

“No.”

But I had already guessed, he had been trying to make me jealous, he was the biter bit. I questioned him:

“Who are you fucking now?” 

“I am not fucking anyone.  I am waiting.”

It was my turn now.

“Really?  Who for?”

“You know who, you fucker.”

I laughed.

 

 

He bought me a cock ring.

“What is that?”

“I’ll put it on you.”

We were in bed.

“I’ve got two, we will test which is the best for you.”

He was feeling my balls, it was very pleasant. Something cold. He pulled one ball through something. 

He slapped me: “Your dick is too eager.”  He continued with getting the ring on.

“Too small, your balls are big, let me try the other one.”

“Ouch! Ouch! Wait a minute. Hang on…ow…that hurt…wait… wait… let me do it…”

He pulled everything through – everything.  Something was holding my balls and my dick together.  He continued pulling, now the ring sat right at the base of my dick and underneath my balls.  He started stroking me.  It wasn’t unpleasant. I didn’t see the point, and then I did.  He edged me.  Brought me close to orgasm then stopped to rub my nipples, sucked them, stroked my cock, then made me get up and kneel on the bed, arms forward, so he could lick my hole. Stroking, repeated patterns of caressing and stroking…my dick was so hard I could feel the blood pooling in it…there was nowhere else for blood to go…only into my hard hard dick…I wanted to put my hand on it…he wouldn’t let me.  By the time he had been doing things to me for fifteen minutes I was begging him to let me come.

 

“To whom are you referring?”

He looked miserable.

“Armie, don’t tease me.  I know I have been difficult.  I didn’t know how to approach you.  You always seemed so together, so grown up, I have been…”

I cut him off.

“Timothee, I do have something for you.  You know that, it is not going to go away, it will always be there, but at the moment I am pre-occupied.  I love Mathias. Not in the same way as I can love you.  He is my companion.  He makes me feel content.  It is a different kind of love than I expected.  I don’t have to pretend with him.  He puts up with my foolishness and he is a comfort to me.  The sex is both thrilling and a comfort.  I am not going to give him up just yet.  I can see that he takes enjoyment in me not just physically but as a person as I am, just as I am.  Motherfucker. Your timing is shit.  Now please can we talk about something else?”

He left after another fifteen minutes, I had hurt him but I couldn’t lie to him and I wasn’t going to cheat on Mathias.  I had taken a long time to get where I was, this was precious to me.  Mathias was more than my lover, he was the perfect person for where I was now.

 

“He’s a fucking Nazi, how can you sleep with him?”

“He is a person, he isn’t a Nazi. He’s homosexual, I am his only lover, for God’s sake.  He was producing parts for the aviation business long before the Nazis established themselves in Berlin.  He’s no different to many large manufacturers and business tycoons.  What would you have him do?”

“He should stand up to them.  There are different ways than just protesting. He can support people who are trying to get away – he has a lot of money, what is he doing with it? He can insist on hiring whoever he wants. I bet he is only hiring Aryan specimens, nobody like himself who would not be acceptable to the Party. He’s a hypocrite for working for them.  And you’re a hypocrite for sleeping with him.  When will you realise that you can’t keep seeing him.  He’s no good for you Armie.  You’ll have to give him up eventually.  He will have to make a choice soon, the party will not accept his relationship with you, and he’ll drop you.

And soon, people will stop talking to you Armie, at the moment it is just tolerable – think on, it won’t be for very much longer.

You can come to me, I have been waiting for you a long time.  I’ll take you as you are.  I don’t care about him or what you do with him or have done with him.  I can be your comfort. You can be content with me as well as he. I can make you satisfied Armie.  I want you, come to me.  We will be happy”

He wasn’t wrong.

 

“I want to fuck you like a woman.”

“What! That is taking things too far.” I paused  “What do you mean?”  I was intrigued.

He pulled out some pink lace thing, the colour went well with the hair down there.  I was a golden strawberry round my cock.

“Put that on”

“But my legs are hairy”

“No matter, I am going to shave you all over, legs, balls, ass”

“The hair will grow back funny…no, this is going too far…no, I can’t do that…nope, not happening.”

It was the first time I had refused him.

“Do you want me to punish you?”  He had my attention.

“Put that on.”

They were lace briefs, tight lace briefs.

I put them on.

I forced my cock into the crease of my groin under the band of the briefs.  I had a silk dressing gown in navy. I put it on too.  I made him make me dinner.  I sat at the kitchen table scantily dressed, the gown kept falling open. My cock was hard now, I pulled it out to the side, gave it a few strokes to keep it hard. He watched as he cooked.  

Later, at the dining table, I got up and sat in his lap.  I am a big guy, it was vaguely hilarious, the chair was at risk.  He didn’t seem to mind, in fact he was highly turned on, when I sat on his lap, his dick was stiff, I put my hand on it and moved it so that I could put my ass on it, so that it fell in between my ass. I started to ride him.  I put my hands in his hair, kissed him deeply.  He started to growl, then grunting, soft moaning, I rode him harder, the lace was taut, full, it began to get wet.

“You are fucking killing me”

He started to stroke my cock through the lace. I was beyond hard, he pushed the brief down, my cock was ready for him, it bounced and stuck straight out.

I stood in front of him.

“Suck it”

He obeyed.  His tongue striped me up and down, his mouth a soft sucking cavern.

I was in control, pushed him roughly away.

“Stop that, come with me”

I took his hand.

Took him into the bedroom.  Undressed him, every time something was removed I kissed him or caressed him, as I removed items I pulled at his dick through his clothing, he started writhing.

“Why are you writhing, are you in pain?”

“Armie…please…sit on me…kiss me…”

I contemplated.

“No. turn around”

I made him put one leg up on a chair. I fingered him, then alternated that with my mouth.  I got some lube.  Gradually I worked him open, one finger, then two, fingered him stretching him, three fingers.

“I am going to fuck you…Take off my knickers….Good boy…Now suck me again.”

Standing, leaning, I pushed my cock into him, slowly so he could feel every inch, I pushed until my cock was seated, then I started fucking him, legs apart, he squeezed my dick with his ass, it fit around my shaft like a glove. He was tight, his hole was slick with lube, it felt fabulous.   I wouldn’t let him touch himself.  Pulled out.  Sounds of sex as my dick left him.

“Get on the bed, lie on your stomach.”

I covered him, pressed my dick in, my legs were outside his. I covered him. My arms around his neck stretching up so he felt my whole body. I was taller, heavier. He was mine, I made sure he knew, his body serene he sank into the mattress. I fucked him slow, soft, I ground into him, I wanted to feel like I couldn’t get any deeper. He gave in to me. I fucked him and he had to wait for me to come. I was going to be first and he did not protest.  We were complete.


	14. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life takes a dramatic turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't @ me.

Timmy stayed with me I scarcely noticed him.

I walked around not knowing where I was. I couldn’t think. I drifted between memories and trying to hold on to normal life. I don’t know how I ate, food appeared and disappeared. He looked after me, but I didn’t care if he was there or not. I was hollow. The days passed by in a blur, I existed. I would go to sleep and my hands were empty, I missed his skin, his smell, the way his legs would move against mine until we slept, while we rested, comfort taken in the other’s presence, I knew his mass I expected it at night, when he came through the door I would hold him to know that he was mine. He would kiss my cheeks, ruffle his fingers in my hair, kiss me hello on my mouth. I missed him. I missed him.

I was in constant tears. Sitting at the table where we ate, I’d look up to tell him something of my day, he wasn’t there. An empty space, vacancy, I couldn’t comprehend what was going on, I thought I saw him out of the corner of my eye, it would be the edge of light moving as I breathed. I heard his voice but it was in my head, his cologne clung to his clothes I would stand at the bedroom door held by a memory, the shirt he wore at our first meal, the trousers worn nearly day when we were in England because they were comfortable. I would feel him walk past me, his presence hung in every room, the pen used when he wrote his cheery notes to me. He’d leave a note nearly every morning. I kept them in a box, I picked one up:

Good Day My Darling,  
Don’t let the day go by without remembering I love you.  
Take your lunch, I have made you a Fleischwurst. Don’t forget there are apples too. They are not as sweet as you taste to me, special, your taste is like nectar.  
bis heute abend  
M.

That set me off again.

Timothée came into the room. He put a hand on my shoulder, that was worse. He sat beside me on the floor. I went into his arms. He held me for a long time.

“Armie, it is time for rest. Come. When did you last bathe?”  
I knew I had not been taking care of myself. It was not important.  
“Come. I’ll run you a bath.”  
He got out some clothes for me, fresh underwear, pyjamas.  
“I don’t wear them.”  
“You’ll wear them tonight. Do you want a drink before you go in?”  
“A whiskey.”  
“No. Milk or chocolate?”  
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do. What do you know? You have never loved like I have loved. Who are you to tell me that I can’t drink? Son of a bitch. Leave me alone.”

He left the room. But he did not leave.  
I sat there, confused.

“Do you want that drink? He held a glass out to me.  
I took it. He held out the bottle, I saw that he had a glass also. We sat drinking together. I told him everything.

I told him how I met Mathias, about our first date, the first time we had sex. What I liked to do to him in bed. How Mathias would take care of me. His generosity. The holidays. The events. Dates where he courted me and our home life. What I missed. What I didn’t miss. My expectations, plans we had made. I told the fucker everything. I didn’t care if it hurt him, he was my friend, he had to take it, that is what friends do, they take the shit you can’t give to other people.

I gave him everything. I was teaching him. About loss. About what he had to do to get me. I gave him information.

I spoke of my darkest desires, what I wanted to do to him. I unloaded everything. Why I stalked him. Why I was not able to take what he offered. My interior thoughts, things known and unknown to me. I told him so I could be open to myself, I brought things into the light – I had nothing to hide. He has now seen me at my worst.

Timothée was the first to truly know me.

I explained that I needed Mathias before I could have him. I needed to know how to love. I did love Mathias. I would always love him. He was not a competitor. He was my love, my lover, all and everything to me.

His time was coming but not yet.

“Armie, you know I love you.”  
That made me angry.  
“How dare you? You come here and speak of love. My love lies on a cold stone, somewhere I don’t know and you speak of love.”  
Suddenly the anger left me, knees soft, I collapsed to the floor. It was too much. I was numbed by feeling.

“Come Armie, let’s go to bed.”

He offered a hand. I took it. I didn’t know what else to do, I looked at him with piteous eyes, I was searching for something in his face, I don’t know what. Something sure, something real, something I could hold onto, I needed security, eyes head and heart unfocussed. I was cut loose from all sense of what was real. Had I just spoken to him, if yes, what of? Did I really tell him everything?

“What did I say?”  
“It is of no consequence, let’s go to bed. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”  
The anger flared again.  
“How the fuck do you know that? You can’t know how I am feeling? Why are you here? Did Ben tell you to come? You’re only here to try… to try…”  
More tears.  
“Come Armie.”

This time I went with him. 

He slept in his clothes on top of the bed clothes. I got in under them. I slept. I woke. Four o’clock came and went. I needed his body close to mine.  
“Get in.”  
“Nope. Go back to sleep.”  
“Don’t worry, I don’t want to fuck you. Get in.”  
“No Armie, go back to sleep.”

“Wake up, hey Armie, wake up.”  
He squeezed my shoulder, half asleep I flashed out, caught his mouth.  
“Fuck, that hurt.”  
“What time is it? Shit, my head hurts, what time did I go to sleep last night?”  
“It’s eight, you went off initially around two and you snore”  
“OK I know I snore, where did you sleep?”  
Old Timothée was back.  
“Here. We only fucked once, it wasn’t good. You had too much to drink, your dick was soft, I had to help myself.” He winked at me.  
I turned over, it wasn’t funny.

I went back to sleep. When I woke again he had gone. That made me distressed. I waited in bed for his return.

He came back at lunchtime, bag of clothes in hand.

“I’m staying for a while.” It wasn’t a request.  
“What do you want for breakfast?”  
“I don’t care, make what you want – no one is asking you to do it.”  
He came over and sat on the edge of the bed. Ran his fingers through my hair, rubbed my chin and kissed my cheek.

“I don’t mind how you talk to me. You can shit talk all you like. It doesn’t bother me. This is a temporary thing, it will pass eventually. And I am going to stay here until you either throw me out or it is time to go. I want to stay with you. I’m your friend, more than your friend, I’ll do whatever is necessary to get you back to my Armie, the one who stalked me. The one who is bolshy. The one who doesn’t know himself, but knows what he wants. That is the Armie worth staying for. I know you are in pain now, but you have me I am not going now. I have you to myself – I am not letting go. I can wait. It will take time. For now I’ll sleep in the other room. If you want sleeping company I’ll come in with you – not for sex, for companionship. No other terms or conditions.  
What do you want for breakfast?”


	15. Timothée

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothée gives us his perspective of events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't @ me.
> 
> This is a longish chapter, certainly in comparison to the others.

I had to stand by and watch him for a long while. 

I got a call at the office from Ben, please go to his apartment.  I didn’t know where it was, I had to take a taxi, it was in an area not known to me, an affluent area – Delbrückstraße in Charlottenberg.  It wasn’t an apartment, it was a large upmarket duplex.

Mathias’ body was found on the borders of Prenzlauer Berg, just lying on the street a single shot to the head, marks on his body telling how they pressed him for information, he didn’t give in, he had nothing to hide, nothing to tell them, they took his life anyway. I identified him, Armie was in no state to handle this.

This was an area known to be dangerous for certain members of the Berlin community, people disappeared there, were moved on to real concentration camps or had their bodies thrown away on the street.  The excuse in this instance being that as he was a Jew he was a danger to the German economy; his father was German Jewish, his mother from a respectable Berlin family – it showed ignorance but put others on alert, if your family was one of the verboten you were not safe. In fact, no one was safe, the disappeared included many ordinary people: homosexuals, the disabled, mentally incapacitated, romany, and members of opposition parties. 

His father had died some years ago, his mother had escaped over the border to France, then onto America – Mathias sent her money each month, she was dependent on him.  They let the family keep his properties, Armie stood to gain the duplex – he didn’t want it, it was dirty money to him.  We were only staying for the duration, his daughter would eventually inherit everything.

Mathias stayed, he felt safe – he wasn’t Jewish, his mother was pure Aryan, blonde an eye catching perfect model of German womanhood down to the traditional German dress she worn when she was young.  There were pictures of his mother and father around the apartment, they were an engaging couple, him dark and intriguing, her fresh and young.  Mathias took after his father, dark hair but grey eyes, around six two.  He didn’t look German but he felt safe because he was German and he worked in an industry which was valuable to the government.  He continued to believe everything would be alright, and then it wasn’t.  Armie saw it all coming, he had no words sufficient to warn him. 

He often spoke to me of Mathias.  I felt no threat.  He had to find a way to me.  This was his way like me with Lukas, he had a temporary love to help him grow into the person who could take love from the ultimate other.  We understood each other, though we did not speak of this.

I had no choice, he needed me so I came.

When I arrived he was desolate.  He walked around the apartment, lost, monosyllabic, already thin, wasting of love. He was haunted, troubled by the ghost of love. Like most ghosts elusive, not real and unable to move on. Love is like a haunting, ethereal, painful, the edge of joy out of reach no longer available.  It hurt me.  I wanted to take care of him, that was my natural place.  What cost me was the pain he suffered, I knew he was coming to me so it was my responsibility to make sure that he had everything he needed to get through this.

I didn’t bother to explain to anyone but Ben what was happening, I explained sudden absences, missing of appointments and non-delivery of promised work on personal problems.  I had a good reputation, I had some leeway.  I needed to be around him.

I knew he was stalking me when he turned up three out of four days that first week. I noticed him, who wouldn’t?  He was tall, eye-catchingly good looking, not overtly blonde, deep blue eyes. I noticed him because he hid, he was shy, his height and physicality was a mis-direction, I looked beyond and I saw him.  I could tell that he would not come forward for me, he hung back but kept moving forward.  There was a pretence about him; I am a performer I know a real emotion formed from memory and the false openness of pretence which is shallow in nature.  Armie was deep, I couldn’t see the bottom of him, many layers some not even known to him.  I had to peel him, or he had to shred his layers, that is the only way we would come together.  It made it easier for me that Mathias had stripped him bare of his shyness and the pretence of not knowing where his sexuality lay.  Mathias was not openly homosexual and he needed to feel comfortable with his partner, so they worked well together.

Mathias was the traditional older partner, someone experienced in life who would impart knowledge freely and would love openly no penalties, accepting and trustworthy.  Armie needed that, I am fey – I like to tease, test boundaries, I need someone who can deal with me.  I will give him anything he asks, but he will have deal with my selfish and demanding personality – I will give him anything, but there has to be a price, some value in the transaction. Everything has a boundary and a time limit. That is why I came, because I am paying in now to draw out later, the time when I need him so, and equally, will come.

“Why are you here?”  There was something feral in his face, it made me wary.  It wasn’t quite three months since Mathias had been found. 

Mathias had been missing for ten days before his body turned up, Armie didn’t worry the first day, it was the second night that he became anxious and came to see me at my apartment.  I knew it was serious because he never came to my apartment.  He got the address from Ben.  I was also anxious when I heard, I knew it would not be good news, disappearance nearly always came to loss in these days.  But I did not tell him this, I told him to ask his reporting colleagues if they could find out, crime was still being reported, they had contacts, they might be able to lead a way to finding out.  I told him not to get involved in any investigation, he could ill afford to be associated with Mathias, everybody knew about them, they didn’t hide but if formally associated, then one way or another he would have to leave the country.  He didn’t listen, he outright went out and started asking questions.

Mathias had gone to a meeting somewhere with managers of Siemens-Schuckert, a leading engineering company and supplier to the government, they even had a plant in Auschwitz.  My blood ran cold when I heard about this meeting, it didn’t matter that it was his father who was Jewish, he had Jewish blood – it was bad enough that he was involved in party initiatives relating to aviation engineering.  I could see how a discovery about his family might result in his disappearance.  I wasn’t sure if Armie knew how dangerous Mathias’ position had been.  It was a foregone conclusion that he had been murdered.  Armie continued raising questions and meeting with people suggested to him, and eventually came round to the same conclusion, they didn’t know about his family – when they found out he was half-Jewish, it was reason enough.

The confirmation was devastating to him.  He broke down and refused to leave the apartment, Ben asked me to go round, I was going anyway.

 

We moved into the next phase of grief, he wanted to debate and question why, this was hard for me because he did not put this in the context of why the Nazis had done this to Mathias, he mainly queried why I bothered and tried to press me to make me realise that it would be better if I left because he did not need me, he was fine.  I decided to make him realise he needed me.  I left his apartment on Sunday, went to my apartment and slept the rest of that day and most of Monday, I was tired - didn’t contact him for a week.  I asked Ben to call round later that week.  He told me to leave him alone, he checked back in the following week.

“Jesus, he is a contrary son of a bitch”

I liked the sound of that, I went back.

 

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to see you, I miss you and want to see how you are getting on.”

“Fucker.  You just want sex.”

“I do.  I already told you I wanted you.  I’m coming in.”  I pushed past him.

The apartment was a mess, he had refused help from Ben who had offered to get a cleaner in to do a thorough clean.  In the two weeks that I had not been around, he had not cleaned, nor it seemed washed up. The kitchen was disgusting.  The bathroom was strewn with clothes on the floor, he’d at least washed or bathed but thrown what he was wearing variously on the floor or over the towel rail.  The towel was nowhere to be seen.

“Armie, this place could do with some tidying – we can do it together, it won’t take long if we both work together.”

He gave me the dead eye, turned on his heels and walked into the living room, poured himself a whisky and went to sit/lounge on the sofa.  I followed through.

“I am not going to drink with you this time.  What have you been doing during the day?  Have you been into work this week?”

He avoided my eye.

“I take that as a no.”

“Why are you bothered?  Did Ben send you to check on me?”

“No, I sent Ben to check on you.  I felt like it was time to have a break, you are tiring, you know.”

Again the dead eye.

“Well you don’t have to stay.  You can always go back to your apartment, I can do without either of you interfering.”

“In what way are we interfering?  We are doing only what good friends do, making sure you are OK.  I think you may be ready to go back to work.  And, if you really want us not to talk to you or to visit.  I am sure we can do that.”  I fixed him with a meaningful look.

He started crying.

“Oh Armie.”  I gathered him up.  He kissed me on the mouth, he wasn’t really ready for this.  He started to claw at my clothes.

“Take them off.”

“No.  Come on, let’s get started on the cleaning.”

“You may as well fuck off.”

I put my arms around him.  Held onto him for several minutes, he continued to silently cry.  I kissed him, and ran my fingers through his hair, caressed his face.

“Come on baby, when did you eat?”

He looked at me, soft, the tears began to cease.

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday when?”

“I don’t know.”

I took his hand.   “Come on”

We had a meal – a couple of old large potatoes, some butter, I couldn’t find anything else.  I decided to leave the cleaning until tomorrow, which was Friday.

 

I went to bed with him, he did not try again, but cuddled up spooning me, his arm around my waist, his face in my neck, leg over mine. We woke around eight, we had gone to bed at ten.  He had a morning erection, he was a good size, hmm I thought, that will be nice.

“Sorry”

“That’s OK…like I am not used to that.  Ha…ha…ha.  S’nice.  Now. Have a bath, we will have breakfast and go for a walk, is there anything in the apartment to eat?”

“Nothing.” He was feeling sorry for himself.  First the erection now no food.

There was only a final bottle of whisky.  I poured it and the remaining half bottle down the sink.  He started to complain, but thought better.

“Let’s go out for breakfast.”

I expected an argument.

“OK.  I’ll just bathe.”  I relaxed, he went up to the bathroom, I could hear him making preparations to shave and wash, water running, brushes and razors being made to work, purposeful moving around,.

“Let’s buy some food, what else do we need?”  I looked under the sink, we also needed some cleaning materials.  I gathered up his laundry, we would pass a launderer on the way to the café.

“Armie…What food would you like, I’ve done a list.  Do you need any soap or razors… Armie…Armie?” 

I didn’t hear anything, I slipped into the bathroom – he didn’t hear me because he was too busy vigorously stroking his cock, the other hand holding and squeezing his balls…gentle moaning and hard breathing…engrossed.  I guessed he was about to come.  I left him alone.  I wasn’t going to join him, it has been a long time for someone who was used to regular sex, I understood his need but he was not yet in a place where it would be nothing more than mercy fucking.  I wanted him to want me, I knew there would be a time soon when I might have to do something about that. I was beginning to miss it too.  I went out to the shops.

 

When I got back he was in a better frame of mind.

“Are you ready to go out?  We don’t have to, I have some eggs, bread and butter and some sliced pork.  I could make a sandwich.  What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go out.”  Sombre.

 

We went to the stalker café, The Corner Café.  I liked being there.  We laughed as we sat down, it was the first time that I got a real sign that his mood was lifting.

“Do you think you will go back to work soon?  Has Ben talked to you about it, or has the paper been in touch?”

“Ben has talked to me, specifically, more if I feel ready.  I don’t know Timothée, I still feel a little down, I haven’t picked up a pen in weeks.  I don’t know if I can write anymore. My sense, the one that drove me to become a journalist is lost at the moment.”

I wanted to say of course you can, I wanted to say it but held back because I had to accept this was how he felt.  Of course it was not true.

“I know Armie.  It’s going to take time.” 

I lay my hand on his thigh under the table, pressed gently. 

“Can you write perhaps a journal, you wrote one before haven’t you?”

A shadow of panic ran across his face.  I didn’t know then about his stories about me.

“What’s the matter?  It can be just a line or two, nothing serious….oh…I don’t want to upset you.  Tell me, what is it that you fear?”

“It feels like a block.”  The overwhelming feeling of grief came on him again, I understood. It was like being rootless, there was no solid ground, nothing to hold on to.  If he started writing, it might unleash the feelings that he had not yet learnt to deal with. 

So he had to do it.  I had to find a way.  Something simple, just to get a pen in his hand.

I had to go back to my apartment for a few things I had left behind, the book I was reading, a recording machine I used to practice on, and the script for the latest broadcast I was going to record the next day.

“Can you come with me to the recording tomorrow?  I’d value your opinion, the guy who is writing it is not very good, but he is open to my suggestions.  He won’t mind if you sit quietly in the corner.  I would like to hear what you think.  We won’t spend long about an hour.  Please come with me.”

He wavered, then gathered himself.  “OK” 

It was a start.

 

I liked walking through the streets with him.  He was mostly terse, it didn’t matter, although I had had him to myself for those weeks, now it really felt like he was mine because I had the proof of being out in the world.  I couldn’t help brushing against him, talking to him like he was my lover, so he knew how I felt. People looked at us, I should have been more cautious, but I was so proud to be with him. I wanted to take his arm – that was so stupid, it would have got us instantly arrested. He gave me confused looks – What are you doing? What are we doing?  Then into himself again.  I wasn’t thinking about how he might react when he got me to himself back in the apartment.

 

He sat quietly for the first twenty minutes or so, and then instinct got the better of him.  I could see him surreptitiously taking a few notes, just a few comments. I smiled at him.  We were done after a couple of hours, I knew we would be longer but thought it best to say otherwise. 

“Shall we get some lunch or do you want to go back to the apartment Timothée?

This was the first time he was active in speech and expression.  I was happy.

“Let’s get some lunch, we have nothing else to do for today, do we?”  He shook his head, a brief smile.

We went back to our café.   A light lunch, omelettes with some salad, just some water.

“Why have you stayed with me Timothée?  I don’t know what you gain from being around me. I have been miserable and rude, not good company, and yet you have stayed.  Why?”

“Armie, I told you before I want to be around you.  You are my friend, more than my friend, there is love.”  He had started a conversation we needed to have, so I took the opportunity to really tell him.

“I noticed you from the time you started coming to this café, I didn’t know how to approach you.  You’d come with your newspaper or notebook and you would glance across but you did not hold my eye.  I wasn’t sure what you wanted.  I wasn’t sure if you like me, if you liked men.  You’d come read, eat your food and go. 

I wanted to talk to you but I didn’t want to come across and find that I had got it all wrong.  That you were just people watching or that you were straight.  So I held back.  We are a pair, don’t you think?”

He was wide eyed, he wasn’t really in a place to have the full conversation, this was enough. 

He should be certain of my care now.

“Why were you fucking Lukas?”

I had no real answer for this, I liked Lukas but I loved Armie.

“I don’t know.”

“That isn’t a proper answer.”

“I don’t want to answer that…yet.”

“Do you want to fuck me?”

I didn’t want to answer that, of course it was yes.  But.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“What do you mean you can’t answer that, be fucking honest.  That is what you asked of me.  We have wasted a lot of time one way or another if you cannot answer that.  You know that right?”

He was angry.  I understood why.  If I didn’t want to sleep with him, then his grief over Mathias would be doubled because he could have given himself wholly over to Mathias, and he hadn’t, he held something back, for me.  If I did want to sleep with him, he had a future, the time with Mathias was not wasted he had learnt a lot about himself and also how to love – he could expend that on me.  I still didn’t want to answer the question.  I wasn’t sure if he was fully aware of what had just gone through my mind, I thought that perhaps he needed more time, not physically, he was ready to sleep with me but I wasn’t sure, in fact I knew that he was not emotionally capable of giving me everything that I wanted from him.

“It isn’t about fucking, you know we can fuck any time Armie. I could have slept with you last night or this morning, I only had to put my hands on you and we would have done it, but what would that have been, we would have to start again or split for good when you were really ready.  I can wait.  We don’t know if we are really compatible, friendship and lust are clearly things we have – but it is more than that, isn’t it?”

“Fucking cock-tease.”

He got up and walked off.  I paid the bill, went back to his apartment and waited for him.  I knew he was going to get drunk.  He came in very late and slept in the spare room.

 

When I woke he had gone.  I went further into the room, took my clothes off and got into his bed.  The bed smelt of him, strong, sweaty, and sex.  It turned me on, I wanted to use my hand, quick satisfaction, instead I lay there contemplating if it was weird to do this, fell asleep for a couple of hours, jumped up when I realised what had happened.  Went and had a cursory wash in the bathroom I used – I wanted to keep that smell on me.  Got dressed and went out for an appointment with the surly soprano who had booked some more sessions and returned exhausted.  He was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea, some kind of tisane, herbal tea, like this was normal.

“What are you drinking, can I taste it?”

“I’ll make you one.”

He got up close, kissed me on my neck as he passed me and pushed me into a chair.  A look  before he started making the tisane.

“Would you like to go to dinner?”

Now I was flummoxed.  I wondered where this was coming from. I wanted to ask him, but thought better.  We had spent a lot of time fencing with each other, perhaps it was time just to take things as they came.

“Yes. Where do you want to go?”

“I’ve booked a table at Boulevard Friedrichstrasse it is a traditional restaurant, but well recommended.  I want to thank you for everything you have done…I know I have been difficult…I’ve had time to think”

“I wanted to do it Armie…”  I wanted to say I love you, because I felt it passing through me, deep into myself.  “What time are we leaving?”  I needed some time on my own, I wanted a few moments to gather myself.

“Table is booked for eight, it isn’t walking distance we’ll get the train into town – though I suppose I could drive, yes, I’ll drive, it will be safer too – go and get dressed, put on your navy jacket outfit thing, that will look nice – don’t wash…”  A soft look, a curve to his mouth and eyes, genuine.

Water came to my eyes, I turned away so he couldn’t see.

We had a very pleasant time, the food was very traditional and very well done.  In the car on the way home, I moved as close as I could and stroked various parts of him.   When we got into the garage I wanted to kiss him but he held me off, he was assessing me.

“Perhaps you are right Timothée…let’s wait.”

“Not even a kiss…please.”  I was begging I didn’t fucking care.

“I am not going to sleep with you.”

“Shut up”

I got into his arms, he didn’t object.  I kissed him, properly.

“OK, that was nice. I don’t want anymore, see I am being good.”

He laughed and kissed me back.

“Best if we stick to our respective bedrooms…”

That wasn’t going to work for me. 

“No, I am coming in with you tonight, we don’t have to do anything.  I just want to be with you.”

He looked hard at me again, trying to assess what I really meant.  I meant it, and I didn’t mean it.  He guessed and laughed again.

“You don’t mean it, and I think it best if we slept in different rooms.  Do you want a drink before we go to bed?”  We had moved into the house and were heading for the kitchen.

“Any more of that tisane? It was lovely.” 

We had our drink, shyly kissed again and went each to our rooms.

 

Around two in the morning, he came in and stroked me to an orgasm. Tasted some and wiped the rest of the cum over my chest and stomach, left and went back to his room.   It took me a while to go back to sleep.

 

When had I got up, showered and went into the kitchen, he was already dressed and drinking coffee.

“How did you sleep?”

“Very well Armie, shall I make breakfast?”

“I don’t have time. I have an appointment with Ben, that is where I was yesterday or at least some of yesterday.  I just went to see what was happening, I enjoyed myself so I am just going back for a couple of hours now, will be back for lunch.  What are you doing today?  We could go for a walk around the Tiergarten – would you like that? Oh, by the way, I wrote up my notes from your rehearsed broadcast, I’ll leave them with you so you can review them.”

“Thanks Armie.  How long will you be? I have to finish off that broadcast, so I would like to be back by three. Though I think that might be pushing things, why don’t you come back when you are finished and we can decide then?  Is that OK?”

“That’s fine, if it is too late we can go tomorrow or Saturday – in fact that might be better, let’s aim for tomorrow.”

I accepted this change in his attitude, he wasn’t quite there yet, but he had chosen to go forward, there may be hiccups, but we were on our way back to a normal life.  That night we slept in our separate rooms and he didn’t visit me.  The next night he came in at three and spent the rest of night, nothing happened.  I was beginning to find this difficult, I wanted him to spend the night with me.  The following night I didn’t go to my room I went in with him to his.

“What are you doing?”

“I am going to bed, with you.”

He looked at me from under his eyes, sly.

“OK, you know if you come in with me I might fuck you.”

 “OK”

A dead look, nothing given away.

 

He didn’t fuck me nor the next night either.  A Good Night and chaste kiss was all that I got each night.

This went on until the end of the following week.  By now I was longing for him.  I went to bed hard, he knew I woke up most mornings having to go to the bathroom to stroke myself to satisfaction.

The next Sunday morning we were in the kitchen, he was smirking.

“Why are you laughing?”

“No reason.”

Fucker.

“What are you doing today?”  I countered, defiant.

“Nothing, well I have nothing booked.  What are you doing?” Still smirking.

“Nothing.”  He looked at me, raised an eyebrow, I caught on.  “Let’s go back to bed.”

 

We were both out of practice, so some kissing and mutual business.  I wasn’t satisfied, neither was he.  It had been a long time since either of us have had sex, eight months for me, six or so for him. We went back to sleep.  It was still only eleven, plenty of time left in the day.  We didn’t have to leave the apartment, we had sufficient food and drink and nothing else that had to be done.  We could take our time.  He had prepared – there was some lubricant and condoms on the bedside table, the fucker.

I got up, made a sandwich, was sitting in the living room eating it when he came in. 

“Do you want some?”

“Some of what?”  Took the sandwich out of my hands, leered at me, oh boy, my cock started twitching.

He took me back to the bedroom.

 

Pulled me into his arms, his arms slipped under my t-shirt into the waist band of my shorts. 

I stood there and let him.

One hand cupped my ass

started squeezing rubbing

pressed a thumb into my cleft down into my hole

me shivering with anticipation

he pushed a finger into my mouth

I sucked on it he pressed my lower lip open bent his head and kissed me

his tongue replaced finger sensitively touching my mouth

entered my mouth

I wanted to suck on it taste him feel like I was taking him into my body

this felt different to this morning free like we had each given the other permission

sex was an expression of where we wanted to go what we wanted to be to each other

he cupped my head held it in place while he deeply kissed me

twisting mouth tongue touching inside pressing hard

just opened my mouth and let him do what he wanted

closed my mouth round his tongue

pulled on it as if it were his dick

opened my eyes so he knew

green meets blue

he pulled me onto the bed

I straddled him sat rubbing against his upright dick

rode him kissing pre-come

he dragged off our clothing all the time maintaining skin to skin contact

back to riding hard dicks pressed together

he rolled me off him

Get on your stomach

stretching for lube

a finger in my ass

pulled my dick between my legs

friction

I rode the bed up into his fingers my hole beginning to pleasantly burn

dragged me down cock on edge ass spread

oh his tongue licking pressing into my hole

Is this OK?

yes oh my fucking God

yes please

pulling dick licking hole

fingers followed by cock it hurt cock gone

he knew it hurt

lubed fingers

cock pressed in gently edging into hole

carry on don’t stop

don’t stop ughh

please don’t stop

pulled out again

empty I missed him

Come here.

He went to the top of the bed, sat against the head board.

 

Come ride me

squeezed my nipples I rose

tip just inside sphincter

clenched

he sucked on them

clench

I dipped

sucked me on my lips

clenched

hole full of him

hands on my ass

seated

stroked my back kissed me.

Get off get on your stomach

finger fucking edging me again

dick pulled down against fabric cock stiff hard leaking

he tasted sucked his fingers

precipice of orgasm

I’m gonna fuck you

Spread your legs

climbing on me

I wear his flesh

he has control of me

inside and out

he can do what he wants with me

yet

his skin feels precious to me

my hairs are tingling

skin mingling with his

more

I feel safe

wrapped in his care and love

open to him and his body

oh fuck yeah

movement upwards

oh fuck

that is the fucking spot

pressing small sharp movements

I want to come

Armie Armie

Jesus

I want to come

Please

Go ahead baby

Do you like this

I fucking love it

Yeah I know you like it

Come baby

Come for me

an unreal sound as I let go

I couldn’t wait for him

fuck oh fuck

then his turn

oh baby

he lay still as he emptied into me

lying still on top of me

his hard dick deep in my body

undone overwhelmed completely overcome

body given over to sensation

am not in conscious mind

his body at once tense and relaxed as he orgasmed

both of us pulsing

him inert as I squeezed his cock dry

my ass like my heart

held him tight.

Later.

That night he drew me into his arms, this time it was different – He took me. Fucked me hard. Didn’t talk didn’t ask. He just gave his dick what it wanted. It was separate from him, I understood because I in turn, did not know what to do with myself. Like him I had no control over my body, so I gave in to it.  Our bodies were beginning to recognise each other, no thought was required.

Later, the days that followed.

I was full of wonder, unnerved, on edge, nobody had ever made love to me like this before. He made love to me with power and compassion. He took nothing from me that I did not want to give him. And yet the force proved his desire, when it hurt it was a pain mixed with a sexual arousal so strong that I felt like I wasn't present. Physically my body desired him so much that I became a vessel in his hands. His dick became a tool with which to test my powers of sensation, beyond what I had ever known before. I would lay back unable to talk and think, as my body took over my cognitive capacities. I gave myself fully over to him I trusted him and he repaid my trust and my love in ways in which I could not count.

 

The next week was a haze.  We did some work, but rushed home as soon as we could our motivation how much sex we could get through in a night  – I had to take a rest after that first weekend, to be honest he had broken me, my ass was sore.  We switched places he let me top – see, I said he let me, he enjoyed it too but man he was six five, well put together, handsome, I wanted him to dominate me, I could not see how anyone else could fuck me better, he knew how to turn me on and how to satisfy me. 

We would go out to dinner and he would give me the look across the table that meant get the bill.  We would sit in theatres and cinemas, coats across laps and he would delve into my trousers, take out my dick and squeeze and pull the head to see how far he could take me before I made a sound. Clothes were ruined, furniture got marked.  We would drag each other into side streets and corners, kissing and rubbing.  It was wild, this carried on for some weeks.  Ben asked us when we going to stop fucking and start working, we both blushed but couldn’t answer, it seemed like it could be endless, we had to make up for lost time.

We had reached a resolution, of sorts. The sex was a covenant. I am bonded to him and he to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am hoping that this second point of view clarifies a lot of what said in the previous chapter. My idea was to give a picture which was not cohorent because that is how we behave when we are distressed, we speak in ways we do not intend and other people have to be patient with us because we do not always make sense. It should be clear that both Armie and Timothee have been steadfast in their care and love of each other. It just took them some time and life events to get where they are.


	16. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is moving on, reality starts to invade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't @ me, they were not even born.

Whilst we were in the daze of finding each other, things were moving a pace in the world of politics, it was now early 1939.  Before then we found some time to have some fun.

We had spent Christmas ski-ing or at least learning to ski in Megeve, we left on the 18th December, drove for what seemed like many hours with one overnight stop in Strasbourg, we didn’t want to stop in Nuremberg it was a town that glorified the Third Reich, a symbol of it’s wicked power, nor Stuttgart, that seemed as bad as Nuremberg. After Kristallnacht it was becoming clear that our time in Germany was drawing to a close.  Armie had reported on that night when the Third Reich had finally outraged it’s neighbours and the rest of the world by trying to extinguish the Jewish presence across the land.  Jewish properties were seized, smashed up and destroyed.  People were openly taken into concentration camps and many murdered or took their own lives.  Our eyes were being opened in a way that we did not anticipate.  In front of us, and inescapable was the Nazis’ true aim.

I was not sure about going to Megève, finally Armie insisted, it was as if he knew that we would not be in Europe the following Christmas and he wanted us to experience a traditional Christmas ski-ing break. In all the time that he and I had been in Germany, we had stayed in town for Christmas.  Berlin was festive during the Christmas period prior the ascent of the Nazis, after they came into power in 1933 gradually the joy of the season began to dissipate. France at the time was still a safe place.  We booked into a small chalet on the outskirts of town.  Once we got there we were able to set aside the horrors of Germany, and during Christmas and New Year we found ourselves with others who were escaping the foregone conclusion that war was on it’s way.  We put it out of our minds.

I fit in socially but could not get the hang of ski-ing, Armie was gauche socially but fell into ski-ing like a natural.  We became sought after, one was wanted for the sport, the other for gossip and entertaining; when we were together, he gained confidence, Armie relaxed and became one of the gang, he became the first person that a host went to for help.  When in company he had beautiful manners, was quiet but had the odd sharp amusing comment which was appreciated. We both had German, one way or another we could communicate.  It was lovely.  Megève was small and sophisticated, we could hold hands in some venues safely, if I took his arm in the street nobody gave us dirty looks. It was a happy time.

 

We were still staying in Mathias’ apartment and still had access to his cars and other properties.  Heidi was in the US she wasn’t coming to Germany any time soon, and she wanted to honour her father’s will.  Armie was to keep the duplex and any items located there, she would have more than enough money and was trying to place most of it into Swiss private bank accounts before the government got their hands on it.  She managed to get about half of his estate and income out of the country or registered in companies outside of Germany before the war, the rest she would have to take a chance on.  She would still be seriously rich.  Armie was half minded to just walk away but I persuaded him to hang onto the property.   If there was a problem with him owning it he could make an arrangement with Heidi, to hold in trust until whatever was coming was resolved.  I gave up my apartment and moved the remainder of my small amount of belongings into the apartment.  I had spent so much time looking after Armie that we found it easy to settle into a routine, we were comfortable with each other, I had seen him at his worst, he had seen me desperate with love and lust, we were a pair, there was no more time to waste.

 

Armie spent the three months after we got back in early January, reporting on the atrocities taking place, like his more famous colleague Shirer, his reporting was forming opinion, because of his relationship with Mathias he had met some senior people in the Party.  He kept in touch with them, they became sources for his stories – they fed him information, I asked him, no begged him not to meet them.  I reminded him of what had happened to Mathias, despite warning Mathias himself about the dangers of maintaining relationships with these people he ignored my entreaties.  If he did not return on time from an appointment or from the News office I fretted until he walked through the door, there was no way of knowing if anything would have happened to him.  The only methods of communication were telephones, which were found in offices or homes – so if he was not in a building he could not contact me by telephone, and I had to be in the apartment to get the call, otherwise there were telegrams or the mail.  There were many times when I waited anxiously for him.

“Armie, I think we should go home.”

“Why?”

“Are you stupid?  The Germans are trying to invade any number of countries, their aim is clear they are creating a Nazi empire, we are not safe.”

He gazed upon me.  A pause.  Something uncomfortable, he finally spoke.

“What would I do if we went back home?  How could we be together?”

Now he was telling me what was really going on in his mind, now.

“Fool, we won’t be going back to Ohio, we will go and stay with my parents in New York.  I have already written to them.  If we don’t stay with them they will find us an apartment close by, maybe even in the same block.  My grandmother left me some money.  We can afford to live in New York until we get ourselves sorted for work.  You have a name now.  If you want to travel for work, that will be OK by me except you cannot come back to Germany, nor France nor any of the countries to the East, these countries are under threat of invasion, you told me this yourself.”

He was giving me the Armie look, the one where he looks under his eyes, the disobedient Armie.  The one I love when we are having or about to have sex, but also the one which is defiant, contrary and will not be told, Ben had encountered this Armie when he was grieving for Mathias.  I have encountered this version many times.  Normally, I smile and listen to what he has to say. I get this version of Armie, he uses it when he is being inarticulate about what he really wants. He burst into speech, thoughts tumbling put into words.

“So now you want to tell me what to do?  I lived many years without anyone telling me what to do, do not start now.”

I decided to fight fire with fire.

“How selfish are you?  I have spent many a night here wondering if you are going to come back to me.  I have never said anything to you about what you can or cannot do.  I am only now expressing my concern.  I do not want to lose you for something which is avoidable. And how dare you tell me that I cannot talk about or discuss this with you.  You are not alone now.  You are in a serious relationship with me, what I say counts – I will not put up with your selfishness.  If you want to do what you want to do without discussion, or consideration for me then you need to re-think if you want to be in a serious relationship.  If you want to fuck off and do what you want, you have to be single, nobody who cares for you will put up this shit.  You have told me how dangerous it is now especially for Jewish men, even if they are foreign nationals.  Have you forgotten you are homosexual – do you think you will be spared?  Take your head out of your ass, you are in danger. I am in worse danger, I am homosexual and Jewish.  I want to go home.” 

I was fraught, overwhelmed, I had to sit down.

He continued to give me the Armie stare, he was calm and resolute.

“I will not say anything now, if I do I’m liable to put myself into further trouble with you.  Let’s discuss this sensibly tomorrow evening.  I have to go out.”

This was unreasonable.

“Where are you going?  You didn’t say you were going out.  Where are you going?  Don’t go out please, I shall worry about you, please Armie.”

“I have to go out, I won’t stay long I promise, it is a dinner appointment with Klaus, he has some information for me.”

“So now you are meeting with the fucking Gestapo. What is the matter with you? You went from one Nazi to the next.  Just fuck off.”

I didn’t bother to look at him, I went off to our bedroom and threw myself onto the bed, like a child throwing a tantrum.

I didn’t hear the front door close.  I waited.

He came into the doorway.

“I am not going out until we have made up.”

“Fuck off.”

“Timothée, come on please.”  He came and sat by my side.

“Leave me alone.  Don’t touch me.”

“You don’t want to kiss me goodbye?  What if you never see me again?”

I got up and he tried to put his arm around me.  I shrugged him off.  We both sat with our hands on our laps, limbs moving anxiously. He spoke first.  I was damned if I was going to speak.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to upset you and I won’t stay long.  Klaus works for local government.  You know that, he is not a spy or or Nazi; sometimes he gets information on events before they are happen, we share information.  That is all.  This is what we are going to discuss: there is a meeting to discuss party plans for the invasion of Poland.  I can’t tell you any more than that.  He is going to tell me when it is likely to take place and who will be there.  I am not going to fuck him.  I only fuck you.  I am not going to disappear.  You will see me later on. Now will you kiss me goodbye, so I can go and can come back sooner, to you.”

He tried again to hug me, and this time I let him.

“I want to go home Armie, I don’t feel safe.”

“OK Tim, we’ll go home.  I just have to make preparation.  We can discuss tomorrow.”

I kissed him thank you, we made up for our quarrel because we never left each other on a cross word. He was late for his dinner.

 

It turned out that Ben had been having similar thoughts.  He has sent Rachel and the children home a month earlier in March when Germany had invaded Lithuania.  He was packing up and planning to leave the following week.  He had a job lined up in England, from there he could continue to commission and edit America focused pieces for distribution across Europe or back to America.  News pieces were in demand, work flowed in for him and for Armie.

Armie had heard that the plans to invade Poland were now going into their final stages.  Through Mathias he was aware that Hitler had been planning to seize all of the easterly countries surrounding Germany in order to ensure wartime supplies, Poland was the supreme prize, Fall Weiss was the formal name for his invasion plan.  The camp at Ravensbrück drove chills down my spine, it was a women’s camp the inmates came from across Europe, their ‘crimes’ ranging from being born a Romany to falling in love with an undesirable.  I wanted to get away.  Armie’s instinct for a story would have kept him there, but even he knew that our time was up. 

We decided to follow Ben to England, to London – we would wait there to see if the war we had foreseen would actually take place, it seemed inevitable to me. Those who could leave left, Jew or not.  Decent people who did no want to be associated with the party had mostly already left, we were among the few who had remained – we had begun to stick out in our community.  It wasn’t safe.

America’s attitude to Germany varied, formally cold and rebuking, informally relationships between individuals and individual companies still flourished – Hollywood companies were happy to edit Nazi film.  The countries were initially united through trade and reparation after the first world war, America wanted Germany to resume it’s powerful stance in the region it was after all an empire in Europe, it had notable history, America could not stomach Kristallnacht, the Germans lost many allies and friends on that night, they had taken their quest for power that one step too far.

 

I wanted Heidi to buy the apartment from us.  Armie had come round to the idea of keeping it.

“Are you mad?  If there is a war, it will take years before we can come back.  If Heidi wants to or is willing to buy the duplex, let her.”

“I can’t Tim. I have a lot of memories here, both you and Mathias, I don’t want to give it up.  It might take many years for us to come back, but I want to be able to come back.  I love this city. It is where I met you and where I came to terms with myself. I can’t give up on this city.”

I didn’t argue with him, he was at heart a romantic, I knew he would find a way of coming back. It would genuinely be better if we did have somewhere to return to, the practical aspects had to find their own way to resolution, somehow it would work out.

It would take us ten years, but we did come back.

 

Just three months later, England declared war on Germany, America stayed out – but provided support to England and France.  We were in London when the declaration was made.  It was only then that Armie decided he had to come back to America, partially guilt at leaving his family in the dark about what had really been going on with him, partially because he had enough of travelling and wanted to feel at home.  The realisation that time was passing, and that our lives were still guided by what was happening at home, and, that we were at heart Americans, meant it was finally time to go home.


	17. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothée and Armie are finally back in America. They spend some time with family and make decisions about their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't @ me. They were not even born.

We arrived in the middle of October, I had forgotten how lovely America can be in the Autumn.  The trees were bearing the colours of Autumn, everything shot through green, gold or brown.  Armie’s mood was thoughtful.  He wasn’t sure whether to go to Ohio or New York.  I hadn’t managed to persuade him definitely. 

We decided to visit with his parents, I wasn’t sure how he was going to introduce me, I needn’t have worried, he wrote to them beforehand and when we met in person he called me his partner, my heart was full.  They just said, we know son.  That was it, nothing more had to be said; Joan, his sister was more cautious but by the time we left she had come round and I felt a full part of the family. We decided to stay with them for a month, neither of us had work sorted out.  We just had some down time.  We didn’t flaunt our relationship out of the house nor did we in front of visitors, I think most people guessed but were circumspect and polite.  The family knew some good people, I knew we would not be so lucky with others.  We would need to be discreet amongst people who were not family or friends.  I caught his mother with tears in her eyes when she walked in on us washing up late one night, I was drying and had put my arm around his waist while I waited for the dishes to be rinsed off, I pressed a kiss into his neck, he smiled fondly at me, we were having the quiet conversation that partners share, nothing really, just discussing what we might do the next day.  She was happy that Armie was happy, that was all she wanted for her boy. 

His father would draw me to one side to try to get to know me, to find out if I was right for his son.  I did what I could to prove myself worthy of his son’s love.  He would test me on books, the news, what I thought about the coming war in Europe. He tried cars and other forms of transport, no luck there – I wasn’t interested.  He tried sports but gave up when he realised that I was into the Arts.  Instead he took me to local concerts and persuaded me to play live for the first time in five years, that was nerve wracking, but I got through.  I re-discovered the joy of playing and took to playing on their old upright when there was company or there was a need for a change from the radio.  Reading music came back fairly easily, the actual playing was more difficult; my fingers were sore for a while but with practice my hands grew stronger and I began to enjoy myself.  I was beyond the skills of the local piano teachers so I promised that when we settled where ever that was I would start studying piano again.

Out of respect we had separate rooms, but of course we slept in one room or other, he had the double and I had his old room, a single.  More often than not we were in his room, we would wait until his parents had gone to sleep to visit each other or had gone down to breakfast to go back to our rooms. After a couple of weeks, his father had a quiet word:

“We can hear you. You may as well both sleep in your room Armie, it will save on cleaning and washing.  Just don’t make too much noise eh, son, you know what I mean?”

Armie blushed, acknowledged, and spoke with me. We tried our best to be quiet but man, it was difficult.

 

Armie was writing pieces for the Cincinnati Post again on a freelance basis, and longer pieces which he initially hid from me.

“What is this?”

“I kept a journal when we returned from Megève.  I knew it was a special time so I thought I would try to capture some of the thoughts as well as the events.  I wasn’t sure what I would do with them.  That’s just a rough piece I was trying out.”

“Can I read it?”

“Not yet.”

I wanted his permission to read it, writing is private and personal. There may be things in there that he hadn’t quite managed to put into a proper form, he might have mentioned me or us.  I didn’t want to be disappointed or hurt, so I had to ask if it was OK to read it.  Otherwise like reading someone’s diary, it would be an intrusion without permission.

October went quickly, so quickly that November also came and went and we decided to stay until the New Year.  A decision finally, our home would be in New York.

 

Armie caught up with Ben, choosing to visit him very early in January, he stayed for a week.  I decided to go with him, but I stayed with my parents, with the intention of finding us a home.  After staying with Armie’s parents I knew we couldn’t stay with my parents, they would welcome Armie but we would face the same problem, a lack of privacy and they lived in a very conservative apartment block on the Upper West Side.  Ben had come to America for the Christmas Holiday, his wife, Rachel had decided that she preferred to be home even if it meant being away from her husband.  They had two children, Sascha and Daisy, now eight and four, Sascha was in school now. She did not wish to disrupt their lives, after living in Germany like us, she felt safest back in America, she was prepared to sacrifice not living with her husband for long periods of time.  They had a large apartment in Yorkville, Manhattan a bland, safe area which just what was needed for a woman living alone with two small children.

I was lucky, an apartment came up in Greenwich Village, it was bohemian, in a bohemian area, I knew we would feel comfortable, we would not need to hide. I paid a deposit and told the landlord we would move in in a couple of weeks.  I wrote Armie to tell him, he came the following day to have a look, liked it and so we were settled.  Or so I thought:

“We’ll stay here for a while, but I want to buy somewhere, I am not wasting money on rent when we can afford to buy.”

“How can we afford to buy?  I have some money left over but not enough for a deposit and mortgage.”

“Never mind that.  I have some money.”

He didn’t say anything more.  I guessed then that Mathias had been very generous.

 

The World Fair had been running since April of 1939; it was an opportunity to bring together all the key countries in the world.  The aim of the fair was cultural and economic an opportunity to lift America out of the remains of the depression which had struck at the turn fo the decade. 

Ben commissioned Armie to write about the exhibition, he wanted the focus on the political ramifications of the fair.  Pavilions were taken by Jewish Palestine giving the first hint of a possible homeland; Russia who were at the time allying with Germany; England who was coming to terms with a declining empire, and France who had Germany bearing down on them.  Germany alone stood out of the major powers by not taking a pavilion claiming financial constraints.  The fair also showed us that we were right to come home, subsequently some Europeans were unable to return home because of the war and were forced to take refuge in the US.

Armie got engrossed in this work; because he had had contact with people who were close to Hitler, he was taken up by a group of influential journalists.  He was employed to write the longer pieces that he had started writing for his own pleasure, it had all worked out for him.  I was not so lucky, my work relied on word of mouth, I more or less had to start again I had one contact from the world of opera.  I had a couple of meetings or I should say I had a coffee and a meal with her.  Her name was Susan Bruckner she was an agent and she introduced me to a postgraduate student at Juilliard who needed a répétiteur.  She was keeping an eye on this singer, so I was spy and helper.  She helped me find someone I could study piano with so I could continue my own studies, and so I began to increase my range of contacts. The long and short was that I picked up other singers and began to find my way – but I wasn’t making a living wage.

 

We had moved into the apartment, one evening over dinner we started discussing our work and how we felt we were getting on. 

We were back in New York, we weren’t settled yet, things were still in suitcases and boxes. We had taken the apartment for a year, but could give notice without penalty after six months, so we had time to decide and make plans. We were sleeping in one room, another bedroom was going to become a dressing room, though I did want a separate bed to sleep in occasionally, Armie could be a restless sleeper but he needed company to get off to sleep easily.  After Mathias he wouldn’t admit it, but he wanted the comfort of another body in bed, an after effect of Mathias' death had been a kind of fear of being left alone which manifested in this need.  However, I slept lighter than he did and sometimes I just needed to have a restful night without having him wrapped around me.  I loved him and I loved his body, but he was heavy and his body was hot in all ways. We started off on opposite sides of the bed, but he gravitated like a magnet over to my side, in his sleep he was completely unaware of what he was doing.

We also argued about having a window open in the bedroom, I wanted it closed he wanted it open.  There is a difference between being able to make use of a human hot water bottle and wanting the warmth the room preserved.  These weren’t deal breakers, we found ways to compromise but these needs had to be built into our choices of home.  We also wanted another room which could be used as an office come bedroom for visitors.  This apartment met our criteria but was at the upper end of our budget.

“Armie, we need to talk.  I can’t afford to stay longer than six months in this apartment.  I’m getting work but it isn’t sufficient to pay my share.  I am sure I will get more work the longer I am in town but it is going to take me time.  I am going to meet Tullio Serafin, do you remember I spoke about him?  He’s a conductor at the Met, he has this soprano that people are beginning to talk about: Maria Callas, he wants me to play for her when she rehearses and for her audition at the Met.  I am sure this will lead to more work.  But I am worried…”

He cut me off.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll be OK.  Shall we have lunch tomorrow? I am going to be Mid-town, it will be easy to meet.  Say yes, don’t worry.”

“You’re not listening to me.  I have some money and I want to be able to support myself, I don’t want to have to rely on my parents.”

“Timothée, do you remember when we argued about my going out without you knowing where I was or when I would be back?  You spoke of us being in a serious relationship. That is how it is.  We are in a serious relationship.  We have responsibilities to each other.  Let me tell you what you mean to me: I would marry you if I could.  What that means is if one of us has to bear or take full responsibility financially for a period of time or for all time then that is what needs to be done.. We rely on each other first, then our parents, family or friends.  I have sufficient money to keep both of us for a very long time.  Don’t worry.”

I thought about what Armie had just said, I needed time to process this. I felt I had no option but to keep quiet, this was everything I wanted, and yet I felt uneasy.

 

The doubt in my mind was ownership.   I would lose my independence if I allowed Armie to just to assume responsibility without discussion.  I became his attachment if I became dependent on him. I knew I could rely on my parents, I wanted them as my fallback.  I didn’t want to be solely responsible to or for Armie.  We were not yet on the same page.  I needed more time.

“Armie, before we agree on this, can I just take a little time to work out what that means to me?  What you have said is overwhelming.  You are my love, I love you, I don’t want anyone else. I trust you.  I know you want the best for me, but even I don’t know what that is.  I don’t have a settled career like you.  I could have work for a year and then have nothing for six months.   I don’t feel settled. I accept your offer but I need time to process it.  I don’t want to be your dependent like a wife, we cannot be that heterosexual thing.  Do I want the same level of commitment, yes, undoubtedly but please don’t call it that.  We have own culture and way of being, and it is defined by being queer not straight.  The idea and sanctity of marriage persecutes and marginalises homosexual men. Do you accept this?”

A mixture of things crossed his face, confusion, disbelief, pain.  I was rejecting him, and yet I wasn’t.

 

When Timothée used that word, I had to recognise that I still had work to do.  I had always defined my love and sex life in straight terms and I wasn’t straight. I had to give in and admit this.  It was a big step.  I meant what I said, I would marry Timothée if I could, that was my ideal, a thing to do for him to show how much I cared and also to show that I was committed, this wasn’t a short-term thing.  I had known that since the day I had first laid eyes on him.  I just hadn’t known how to tell him or how to come to terms and accept this about myself.  I thought he would relate to what I had just said.

“Timothée, you know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, don’t you?  Money and property is of no consequence to me., I share it all willingly with you, it is not a question of dependency.  The vows of marriage contain some important aspects of relationships and life, It is about taking responsibility for someone else if it is required it is not taking your independency it is about allowing the person you love to live freely, sharing all that you have and are. You can do whatever you need to be happy, provided it does not make me unhappy, and whatever you do is done with consideration to how it might affect me.  If there is a condition it is that it is my care and love is being provided because you love me and you would do the same for me.  I only ask that you love me and give me my freedom to live equally freely.  Is that fair?”

I took a breath.

“This notion of queer, that is alien to me.  I didn’t grow up queer, I grew up confused. People told me it was wrong to love and have sex with another man.  Now I honestly do not give a fuck.  The notion of queer is not on my horizon.  I only know that I love you.  I can mix with other homosexual men and I can enjoy their company but I do not buy into queer culture, I am not going to put myself in a ghetto that I cannot get out of once I have labelled myself. I am aware of the difficulties facing men like myself who love and have sex with other men.  I am not labelling myself, that is something you will have to accept about me.  You have the right to consider things differently, I’ll listen to you I’ll debate, but this is where I am now.  It is not material to our relationship. I love you I have money you can use it.   If you want access to my bank accounts, tell me or if you want me to transfer money to you, tell me, I don’t care.  Whatever I have I willingly share with you.  I have nothing left to say.  Now, shall we have lunch tomorrow?  You can pay.”

“Fucker”  With that he climbed onto me and hugged me.

 


	18. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Timothée are now in New York. Their lives are finally settled, just a few things to resolve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, don't @ me. They were not even born

Two years later.

It is 1942, and we are settled in our home in Greenwich Village, in the end Armie prevailed and we bought a house.  I was a little phased by this, what I mean is that Armie had sufficient money to outright buy a house and he hadn’t told me.

The other thing that phased me was the relative normality of New York, we arrived from an Europe which was coming to terms with war.  There were groups of persecuted people in Europe who had no chance of living a normal life.  Back home here in New York nothing seems to have changed.  Or what had changed did not make a meaningful difference to our lives, in Germany people were dying because they were Jewish or for something that they could not help. In America the only evidence that war was integrated into our lives was that there were no new cars, soldiers and navy men strolled around on vacation and the harbours were booming.  It felt wrong, no one was suffering, from what I remember war should be  people suffering, someone should be suffering.  It wasn’t evident.  Industry over a period of time, became more focussed on the war than developing machines which prevented it.  We carried on as if the war was some minor inconvenience, something to get through, affecting us only by seeing what was going on but not being invested, having little effect on our actual lives.  I was lucky, my man was not going to called up, neither was I – that’s if they actually needed men.  At the moment life was normal.

Armie was still writing long pieces and because he had had the radio work in Germany, the Blue Network asked him to produce some broadcasts on a German perspective.  The Blue Network were the smallest of the American radio networks, there was a partner network also owned by NBC, the Red Network they were run as integrated but separate units.  He got me some work, speaking about my perspective of Europe; we were very careful not to indicate our intimate relationship.  Where we lived was broadminded but the rest of New York, and America would not take kindly to knowing about the basis of our relationship – sex between men was illegal and would be for another fifty years.  It was the first time I really felt ashamed.  I couldn’t acknowledge my partner freely lest it put his job in jeopardy.  His colleagues either knew or guessed but the senior management of the radio network had no idea.

Armie’s work carried on, but he learnt that the Broadcaster, NBC was under investigation by the Federal Communications Commission. The two Networks were named for the switches which controlled broadcasting, and NBC used the networks interchangeably for talent, sponsors and programming; this was irresponsible and deemed monopolistic. The FCC assessed this as a danger to the market, so they were forced to split the overall network. Their ruling further banned broadcasters from having more than one station in any region or town and the effect was to weaken the Blue network - it was taken over and Armie lost his contract.

 

We were over joyed when Voice of America approached Armie out of the blue because of his connections and experience.  Reality struck when they wanted to vet him, it was after all a government organisation, he knew they would find out about us and hoped that they would ignore this information.  They didn’t and stopped communicating with him.  Another opportunity lost.

 

CBS were not so particular, they also came looking and Armie thought it best to mention his personal life to his commissioning editor. 

“We do not give a fuck who you are fucking, unless you bring us into disrepute, then we will cut your ass very fast.  What else is going on with you?  You live with your partner, nothing else right?  When can you start?”

 

After this Armie decided he could not be dependent on any organisation, he started writing books; his first attempt was a thinly disguised memoir of our time in Germany and his acceptance of his sexuality.  It was not for publishing, he wrote it to see how he would do on a very long form of writing and also to review what had happened.  I think there were still some things he wanted to work through.

 

Susan continued to support me, not with actual work but she took me places and dropped hints about me.  The Opera House liked my work with Maria, I didn’t actually play for her in her auditon for them, one of the house pianists who was more experienced played for her. But they allowed me to sit in at the very back of the auditorium when auditions took place to gain experience.  A couple of weeks later I covered for someone who had fallen ill and they asked if I wanted to be placed on their rota of people who could cover rehearsals and if needed, the orchestra.  I gladly agreed, they ran studio performances, semi-staged performances for sponsors and galas. I got to play in a few of those.

From there I got more work as an accompanist and répétiteur.  I continued my study, I had found a teacher, Roberto Frenelli, who had retired but kept on one or two students, he was just what I needed, he was patient and thorough.  He got my fingering back on track, gave me pieces to practice which helped to condition my hands, play combinations of notes accurately and refine my co-ordination. He also fixed my whole arm movements. I began to get fit enough to play for long periods of time without struggling or fighting my body.  He helped me tremendously, I asked him if he would keep me on having initially only agreed to work with me for three months.  He agreed but reminded me that more than half the work rested on simply practicing for at least two hours a day.  It was tiring, I had to find time every day to basically sit at a piano.  When we had moved in I had to go to the opera house as there wasn’t a piano in the house, and I couldn’t always find a room with a decent piano or even one that was free.  If there was no availability there, I would try to sneak into Juilliard, the door men knew me and would let me in so long as I did not take liberties and try to get in every day.

After complaining bitterly and endlessly to Armie, he succumbed and bought me the Bösendorfer for my thirtieth birthday.  I came home to find a truck in the street and several burly men hefting pieces of a baby grand into the house.  I was so grateful that I could not speak.

Once the piano was installed, I could turn my attention to other areas.  I decided to go back to college part-time on a post graduate course to study the history of performance. I wanted to get some work as a dramaturg, this was a new thing; someone who could help a conductor or director piece together the key elements of an opera. This might be historical references, which version of an opera should be used or section interprolated; I could also  help a singer to get the music in context so that it could be sung with intelligence or wit. I had some French, fluent German and I could get some help with my Italian from Roberto, the course was within touching distance. I told Armie I was going to use my grandmother’s money so I was now a pauper.  He merely glanced at me and carried eating dinner, we were out for one of our rare mid-week meals. 

“We have already had this conversation.”

I was lucky, my man loved me. Things were looking up.

I couldn’t leave things alone.

“Our house is in Waverley Place. It’s not cheap.  How did you afford the $50,000 it cost?”

“You know where I got the money – I sold the Berlin apartment to Heidi and Mathias had been very generous.  He gave me an allowance and I never spent it, when things started to get rough in Germany I transferred the money to my American account.  You know this, we had this conversation when I bought the house.”

“But you never told me how much money you have overall? And why did you change your mind about keeping the duplex?”

“I decided that there was no point in keeping it and not being able to visit.  We have already been away for nearly three years.  Germany is going to be in trouble now and for some time after the war ends, and who knows when it will be safe to go back.  It made sense to let it go. We can still visit Berlin at some point in the future.  My life now is here with you, don’t you understand, don’t you trust me?”

Truth was I didn’t trust him, not on this, he was still holding back on how much money he actually had.

“Timothée, I can see you still have some doubts. I perhaps have sufficient that we could manage for another two years without working, so you better get your ass in gear, that is emergency money.”

I knew he was lying, he had other monies stashed somewhere, there were still some things that I was not privy to.  Behind his eyes his lizard brain grazed on me, he was giving me the get the bill look.  It never failed.

 

We had taken to wearing wedding rings as a sign of commitment and also to put off other men, and women.  We agreed to the wearing of them after attending a party given by the Kurt Baum, to celebrate his first appearance at the Met.  He had studied in Berlin and knew of our connections.  It was a house party, I was enjoying myself, Armie too he was being included in the conversation - sometimes these parties could be cliquey.  It was not too far from where we lived, we could walk home, that was as well because I’d had a few drinks.

I was talking to Kurt when over his shoulder I could see a blonde dark eyed woman making her way over to our group.  She was attractive and she had purpose.

“Oh, Else, let me introduce you, this is Timothée and his friend Armie, they also live here in Greenwich Village, over near Waverley.  Else is studying singing here, she was in Germany and decided to leave after Kristallnacht, I am sure you have much you can talk about, excuse me a moment, I’ll be right back.”

He had dropped the hint. He left and went towards the kitchen, he scuttled off like he was escaping. It didn’t take me long to realise why,

Else was tall, her dress was gold with a fine brocade fit in all the right places, she was not slim, a womanly figure, she was attracting looks but she only had eyes for Armie. They were a striking couple.  I was looking daggers at her, she did not pay me any attention, whatsoever.  He stood there smirking, and being polite.

“Armie, that’s an unusual name – where is it from?”

Pliant, soft, silky, used to getting attention and her own way. She dipped her eyes at him.

“My mother’s grandmother is from France, it is a family name, short for Armand.”

I side-eyed him.

“That’s interesting – it is a pretty name, I like Armie.”

I rolled my eyes.

“My family are from Germany originally, but we have lived all over Europe.”

He brought me into the conversation and even indicated me.

“Your family is very similar to Timothée’s, he’s lived in Paris, London, and New York.  You have much in common with him.”

He winked at me, paused, waited for her reaction, got none and continued the conversation.  He was now waiting for my reaction, he knew there would be one.

“When did you all initially leave Germany?” He asked politely.

I didn’t have a chance to get into the conversation, she shifted places and cut me out of the conversation. By now Armie was actually laughing. The other people in the group scattered, they knew we were together, could see my face and also that this might be a bit too interesting.  She was not subtle, now she was standing up straight all the better to show him her breasts, then she leant slightly forward off her heels, right at him.

“My family have a house in rural France near the German border not far from Baden-Baden, we would use it for holidays normally but after the first war Germany was too unstable, so the family moved there initially, and then I went to study in Berlin when I was older.  What were you doing there?  You look German, you’re tall and lean…I’m sure you’d fit…right in…I can see how…”

 

I could hear the smile and come-on in her voice.

 “Es ist ein bisschen laut hier, möchten Sie irgendwo ruhig gehen?

  * It is a bit noisy in here, why don’t we go somewhere quiet?



 

She touched him gently on his wrist, not even his jacket she fucking touched his skin.

I moved from behind her shoulder, went round to Armie and put my arm around his waist.  That got her attention.

“Warum verstehst du dich nicht?”

  * Why don’t you fuck off?



 

“Timothée, manners.”

She moved off, without a word.

 

“You realise a ring is not going to stop anyone who is determined.”

“Never fucking mind that, I want to make sure people know you are taken.”

 

“Have you got a will.” 

I flushed hot. “No.  I don’t have anything worth giving to anyone including you.” 

“You’re talking rubbish.  You own half of this townhouse.  Your parents are going to leave you at least half of that fancy apartment they have on Riverside Drive, that piano is yours. It is a Bösendorfer. You have some rare music manuscripts. 

I am going to make a will.  I don’t have any children, you are my partner, we have sufficient, more than we need and I don’t need anything from my parents so the house can be left to Joan.  I am going to leave everything to you, and on your demise to my nephew and niece.  What are you going to do?”

In truth I hadn’t thought about who I would be leaving anything to.  It had not crossed my mind.  Armie had been very generous, true to his word what was his was mine (at least what I knew about) when he bought the house he brought me along to co-sign the papers.  I did not have to spend any money on the house or furniture, he paid for everything.  At first I found this difficult.  I didn’t want him to be my sugar daddy, someone on whom I was dependent – but to be fair all expenses were then split evenly.  If we wanted to go on holiday or had an expense out of the ordinary, he would ask me what I could contribute and we would split it fairly.  I resigned myself, it was a case of either accepting this was the situation or constantly feeling at a disadvantage.  He would allow me to spend extravagant amounts for his birthday and accepted my gifts with grace and genuine pleasure, more especially if I spent a small amount of money and had taken time to choose something I knew he would appreciate, he took equal pleasure from gifts like home made lemon curd which I bought in a local sale held in honour of soldiers, and which he loved to eat with toast; honey or lemon curd were his favourite spreads – they reminded him of me, and of our time in Germany.

He bought me the Bösendorfer (it was second-hand, he is not that generous) and told me to get off my ass and go and get some students either for singing or piano – I had no excuse, a whole floor was given over to my music and study of opera. I was immensely grateful.  He supported me through thick and thin. 

After he had bought me the piano I spent time trying to repay him, trying to please him, giving him attention, helping more in the house and basically more sex, in the end he told me to leave him alone, the quality of his work had fallen off, he couldn’t concentrate, he needed more sleep blah blah blah.

I would go into his study and sit on his lap and ride him.  I would randomly wake him at night by touching, sucking or placing a finger in his ass.  I’d stand hard dick against hip or ass, and rub against him whilst he cooked – he did most of the cooking and kitchenwork.  He couldn’t shower by himself, I would get in, bend him over and place my dick against his hole, just pressing softly, rubbing his hole, entering him a little just enough to make his dick stand up so I could suck it. Or use his ass cheeks until I came.  Once I used his legs, his thighs close together – he didn’t like it.  I would treat him to the cinema, take him into a corner at the back and handle his cock until he nearly came, and put his it back in his trousers, then repeat this several times until he either came or stayed my hand - I was the epitome of stealth, was so practised that I could squeeze or pulse him to orgasm without stroking.  I would ask what he wanted he me to do to him and I would do it regardless of what he asked. He introduced me to the riding crop, lace and other things, things that Mathias had taught him.  He never asked me to participate in his demands until he had shown me how he wanted it done and then if I didn’t like it he would not press me.  Our repertoire was wide, we were not bored.  I was milk to his cream, I just liked straightforward fucking, but he wanted the other so I enjoyed giving him hell because he loved it.   I protested when he let me start these things and then complained of being tired.  He would give me the Armie look which meant, I am tired now, try me later or tomorrow.

In the end we had partner wills, in that if anything happened to either of us, the other had the use of our house or money derived (allowance was made for our care in old age) thereafter all the property passed to nephews and nieces equally, it had to be out in the open, there would be no in-family fighting.  We held a party to celebrate, this was the first time that all family members were in one place, everyone had to come for the weekend, we were squashed into one building and the remaining three bedrooms, sleeping bags or blankets, a sofa for one set of parents but nobody complained. It was joyful and made me cry to see all of us mingling together., after that first time, we made it a habit to have a family gathering at least once a year, we rotated around the family especially after it became difficult for our parents to travel.

 

The party to celebrate the wills was also a celebration of our commitment. We had a little ceremony.  Ben officiated by standing to accept and acknowledge the confession of our love and commitment in public in front of those we loved and cared for.  We had vows, and voiced the words which expressed our love and the reasons why we had chosen to be in each other’s lives, we explained it was a long time coming.

We were bonded and we proved it by swearing our love, the rings were a mark for everyone else.  We did not need to be told.

**Author's Note:**

> A source of information about gay clubs in 1930s Berlin:  
> http://rosawinkel.kulturring.org/?treffpunkt=charlottenburg .
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_universities_in_Germany  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_Jews_in_Poland  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Warsaw  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Polish_desserts  
> https://www.jewishgen.org/Yizkor/pinkas_poland/pol4_00154.html  
> https://muse.jhu.edu/article/194316/pdf  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1933_in_Germany


End file.
